Team Detention
by underastarlessnight
Summary: Attending a performing arts school is almost guaranteed to get you friends, right? Not for 16-year-old Lili Reinhart who is pretty much invisible in the eyes of her peers. That is until she decides to dye her hair in the girl's bathroom, inevitably getting caught and thrown in detention. That's how it all started. Detention; which inexplicably turned her life upside down. Cast fic!
1. Chapter 1

I don't usually skip class. I'm one of those students who actually enjoys going to school. How can I not? It's the best decision, and $8,000 dollars my parents have ever spent. St. John's Academy For The Performing Arts is like my home. Except- I'm ignored by my family. Which of course, instead of parents and siblings, are my classmates. In a school like this, you're supposed to be close with your classmates, right?

 _Wrong._

I'm standing in the girl's bathroom, my hands gripping the marble counter so tightly my knuckles turn white. My sobs echo around the room, since it's so big, at least twenty stalls lining the walls. There are posters all over the white tiles, reminding girls about STD's and Teen Pregnancy. My backpack is on the floor at my feet, my phone vibrating loudly. But I ignore it, not taking my eyes off of the girl in the mirror, staring back at me. I hate her. I hate her with every damn ounce of my being. She stares back, her eyes wide, lips curled with distaste. Through the dirty glass, the cracks girl's had made in the past, and ancient smudged lipstick stains; I'm staring at myself.

I guess this is the part where I explain I'm being bullied or harassed, but that's not it.

I, Lili Reinhart, am completely invisible.

I spend exactly 6.5 hours at St John's every day, and I must say like three words in total. Four or five if I'm called on in class. But I keep my head down, corking my headphones in and hiding behind my long blonde hair which I've realized is the reason why I'm invisible. My classmates go along in their lives, making plans, laughing, messing around in class. While I binge Netflix shows with my phone strategically placed on my lap at lunch. Once there was someone. Right at the beginning of Freshman year. She'd asked me what I was watching, and at the time, it was Shadow Hunters.

After giving me a weird look, she'd gotten up and walked away. A few days later, I found out her name was Cam, and she was dared to come and speak to me. I can't say it didn't hurt me, but I still had hoped- back then. That I'd find someone. My own friends.

Unfortunately, that hasn't happened yet.

I score a mediocre 5 on what I can only call the social scale. Meaning I'm not hated. I'm not loved. I'm just a ghost. Which I didn't care about in my freshman year. After the Cam incident I stayed in the library, reading through books I'd already read and could memorize perfectly. But I'm a sophomore now. The kids I go to school with are going to be the next big thing! Singers, dancers, actors. They're all here. The next generation of Vampire Diaries actors, swarming around me. It's like putting the most eccentric, creative and talented kids together for four whole years. And I'm yet to make friends. The thing is, I have classes with kids I feel like I'd get along with. I just can't get past that first hurdle; speech. Normal, human speaking. I suffer from anxiety, so it's not exactly surprising that my chest physically aches when I try and talk to someone. But I've been taking meds for two years now. I should be getting better, not deteriorating.

Ever since I was a kid, I've wanted to be an actress. The audition to get into St. John's was to either sing, act, or dance. I cant sing. The last time I tried to sing, mom told me I sounded like a cat being strangled. Whether she was joking or not, I haven't tried to since. Only purposely bad in the shower. Dancing isn't my thing either. I'm clumsy, always tripping over my feet and stumbling my way through life, without even trying to dance, so that's also off the table.

The only thing I can really do is act. I'd been making my own little movies since I was little. When I was five, it was on my mother's camcorder, and when I was fourteen- directing a low-budget zombie movie with my friends before St Johns. It was with my iPhone. For my audition, I did Cady's beginning monologue from Mean Girls. The night before I was so nervous I nearly threw up, but when I was on stage with my script, shaking so badly I could hardly read the words printed in front of me. Something just clicked. I could tell I'd impressed the judges, from their smiles and sly nods.

Staring at myself in the mirror I tug strands of my long blonde hair hanging like rats tails in front of my eyes. I'm not ugly. I know that. I'm just- simple. Mundane. I'm tall and lean with pale skin, too many freckles to handle and green eyes. Though the hair really ruins my look. It looks so childish. The blunt scissors I took from home are balanced on the marble counter top, the blades scathing the surface. The girl's bathroom isn't exactly the best place to completely restyle my hair, but it was the only place I had. If mom finds out I've cut my hair, she'll ground me till I'm thirty-five.

It doesn't take me long to start hacking at my locks. Trying not to look at the build-up of fluffy blonde hair piling in the sink. If someone happened to come in now, and they could since I didn't lock the door. They'll think I've lost my mind.

Lili Reinhart has lost her damn mind! They'd whisper through word of mouth. The lock on the girl's bathroom door is broken., thanks to an incident a few months ago when two seniors had tried to rip each faces off over a boy. It's always over a boy.

It's the last classes of the day, so I don't really expect anyone bounding in. Though even saying that mantra to myself doesn't stop me from having a panic attack every time I hear the slightest sound. The noise of the scissors makes me feel nervous; snip, snip snipping away at my hair. But it also exhilarates me. The shorter my hair gets, the brighter smile my becomes. After ten minutes of hacking away at my hair, not bothering about length or quantity, I drop the scissors in the sink and grin at my reflection. It's not too short to freak out over it. It's just right, no longer brushing my tailbone. It sits perfectly on my shoulders. I stand there for a few minutes, staring at the pile of hair in the faucet before a slightly crazy idea pops into my head.

I'd bought a tube of Red hair dye a few weeks ago, keeping it hidden in my backpack from mom's prying eyes. I'm digging around in my pack before I consciously know what I'm doing. Finding the small tube tucked between my battered copy of Harry Potter and an old script from months ago, I pull the tube of dye out and drop it onto the counter. My cheeks burn with embarrassment. Cutting my hair is bad enough, but dyeing it too?

But I can't stop thinking about how cool a dozen red streaks will look. It's different. It's weird. It's this school's motto. I pull off my sweater before I can change my mind, turn on the faucet and start wetting my hair. I pop open the tube with a hairpin and squeeze out the dye into my hands. There are no gloves, nothing to protect my skin, but by now the idea of dyeing streaks into my new hairstyle is sending shivers of exhilaration up and down my spine. It takes a while, but finally, I'm standing in front the mirror with damp hair, streaked red, dangling in my face. I grab tissue paper dry each streak. The stink of ammonia from the dye tingles in my throat, seeping into my nose. It makes me feel nauseous. I'm pulling my sweater back on, dragging a brush through my newly dyed hair, when the door flies open, and I freeze.

I've cleaned up most of the hair, but there are still piles of it on the floor. The tube of dye is still in the sink, floating in a pool of water tinged scarlet. The scissors are there too, and It hits me how bad this looks. I spin around, trying to ignore the splashes of dye down my sweater, but my mouth isn't working. The words _I can explain!_ are on my lips.

But that's the thing. I can't explain. Mr Garret, my History teacher is standing in the doorway, frowning at me as if I'm an optical illusion. I don't blame him. I must look pretty crazy as I'm fighting for both my breath and speakable words while trying to desperately hide what looks like a scene off of a Saw movie. I didn't realize the mess I'd made. Mr Garret is a forty-year-old man who looks like he's just stepped out of an OAP's home. His greying hair, wrinkly face and obsession with the war make him seem ninety years old when he's practically my dad's age. I wonder if I've actually caused him to have a heart attack as he too stumbles with speech. "Miss Reinhart?" He chokes out. "What on earth are you doing?"

I guess the smart ass answer would be; "Dyeing my hair, what does it look like?"

Except I'm not that kind of girl. I don't have snappy comebacks, and I literally start to tear up if anyone raises their voice at me. So I don't say anything, instead waiting for Mr Garret to spontaneously combust. But he doesn't. Much to my disdain. His expression, however, twists into one of horror. "Lili?" he's seems to have found his voice, which is a start, I guess. I straighten up and tuck strands of my newly dyed hair behind my ear.

What I'm not expecting next, is the chuckle. "In all my years at this school," his icy blue eyes are practically boring into mine. "I've never seen a kid wash, cut and dye their hair in the school bathroom." When I try and correct him, he shakes his head and taps his watch. "Lili, it's quarter to three in the afternoon," his eyebrow quirks. "May I ask why you're evading your last lesson of the day to give yourself a makeover?"

Struggling not to correct him again, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, and the girl in the reflection looks nothing like me, and my breath catches in my throat.

My face looks bolder, brighter, now my hair isn't obstructing my eyes. Instead, it's behind my ears. No longer a nuisance. I absently play with a strand. I'll have to completely rethink my style with this new hair. I'm used to long sweaters over leggings, but I have the strongest urge to try out the summer dress mom got me ages ago. When I tried it on after she bought it, the damn thing hung off my slim body and my none-existant curves. While my hair cascaded down my back. The shop assistant's eyes had nearly bugged out of her head when I politely said I was sixteen after she referred me to the kid's section. That had been happening all my life. I'd always been handed the kid's menu at Mcdonalds, and I had no relationship whatsoever with the male or female species. I was a sixteen-year-old trapped in the body of a little kid. Though not anymore.

Despite everything, my lips curve into a small smile. I like the way I look, and that's big coming from me. I'm the opposite of photogenic. I hate seeing myself in photo's, even looking in the mirror. Though now I'm proud of the girl standing in the mirror.

"Lili?" Mr Garret snaps me out of it, and when I can only open and close my mouth soundlessly like a goldfish, he sighs and rolls his eyes. "No explanation?" He demands. "What, do you have a - I don't know, a date?"

My cheeks flame. I want to crawl into the ground. Shaking my head, I stare at the floor, and the teacher clears his throat. "Whatever your excuse is, Miss Reinhart. You can't do this on school property, do you understand me?" Mr Garret lets out a breath. "You could have stained the counters bright Red! What on earth were you thinking?"

I continue to glare at the tiled floor, at my converse's laces dyed scarlet.

"Alright, come with me," He mutters, after what feels like hours of torture. "Since you've missed most of your class, you can start detention early."

"Detention?" Words finally manage to escape my lips in a high pitched squeak as my head snaps up. I've never had a detention. If mom finds the salmon coloured slip of paper in my bag, she'll be mad. But if I hide it, I'm pretty sure I'll be grounded for life.

Mr Garret splutters out a laugh. muttering something about having a proper punishment, and my heart sinks into my chest. He tells me to grab my bag, and I clean up as much as I can before growing impatient; reminding me that's what the cleaner is for.

On my way out of the bathroom, doing the walk of shame, he holds the door open for me. "Don't worry, you're not the only kid I've found truanting."

What's that supposed to mean? When I walk or rather stumble back out of the girl's bathroom, I suddenly feel incredibly exposed. I no longer have my long hair to hide behind and when I see the group of kids leaning against the lockers looking impatient, Mr Garret's words suddenly make sense. There were three of them, two guys and a girl. I knew none of them. The girl looks Brazilian. She has olive skin and short dark hair pulled into a loose ponytail, a ratty baseball cap sitting on her head. She wears a faded purple tee under denim overalls and converse, a threaded backpack slung over her shoulders.

The girl is tapping away at her phone, her lips curled into a sly smile. I wonder if she's texting someone. The two boy's standing next to her look to be in various stages of impatience. "Mr Garret, finally!" One of the boys straightens up from his position slumped against the line of lockers. His mop of scruffy dark hair and golden skin make my heart jump a little. He looked a little bit like a young Leonardo D'caprio. That was, however, until he opened his mouth. Young Leo straightens the collar of his shirt, letting out a breath. He catches my eye, and the moment his lips curl into a smirk, his eyes shining, I really regret everything I'd done in the past hour. Which includes finding him the least bit attractive.

"Dude," the boy chuckles. He cocks an eyebrow with a quizzical grin, folding his arms. "Were you dyeing your hair in the girl's bathroom?"

My hair is still damp, strands of it tickling my chin. I can smell myself. The unmistakable stench of ammonia spiking my nose and throat. They can probably smell it.

The other boy, a nervous looking kid in a band shirt and ruffed up jeans with a shock of light brown hair looks up from the floor, his gaze landing on me. The girl's attention snaps up from her phone and she too eyes me curiously. My cheeks burn and I try to ignore Young Leo's piercing gaze. They might not have noticed if Young Leo hadn't opened his mouth. I feel like a circus act, immediately self-conscious of the ruby stains decorating my sweater staining my hands. I try and hide them the best I can, but that only attracts more attention. I glance at Mr Garret for help, but he's muttering to himself, emptying his blazer pockets. No doubt rooting for his book of detention slips.

"Well?" Young Leo's tone is teasing, and the other two stare at me, waiting for me to answer. Leo leans forward, and I notice a Polaroid camera hanging around his neck from an ancient looking strip of frayed ribbon. God, could this guy get any more pretentious?

"That's enough Cole." Mr Garret growls. He holds up a dog-eared book of pink paper, and my stomach turns. Young Leo- or I guess "Cole" leans back into the lockers, rolling his eyes. "I didn't even do anything," he mutters "Like I told you ten minutes ago, I was taking pictures for my photography project." he gestures to his camera for emphasis.

Mr Garret scoffs. "And do you have a teacher's note or hall pass?"

"Will it really make a difference if I say no? Look, the system stinks, okay? How is it fair that I get reprimanded for doing something actually related to school, and then we have Mumford And Sons here," he points accusingly at the other boy. "Who decides to turn the cafeteria into his own private fucking concert in the middle of classes, and he barely gets shouted at?"

"Cole-" Mr Garret is losing his impatience. He's pulled out a pen, scrawling a little too violently on each one. I have no doubt he's deciding my fate for the next few hours.

"I'm not finished!" Cole hisses, exasperated. He's really getting himself worked up. "Then when I, a perfect example of what this school stands for, politely asks him to stop singing crappy covers, I'm dragged into detention with him?"

"Wait, hang on," The other boy seems to come to life, his eyes darkening. He straightens up, stuffing his hands in his jeans. I notice a foreign twang in his accent. Australian? Maybe Kiwi?

"Mate, you threw a tray at me!"

"Because you told me to get out! It's the cafeteria, genius. Anyone can go in there!"

I notice the girl is laughing, and I can't help smiling to myself. My hair is rapidly drying thanks to not having any air conditioning in the corridors. It's the middle of June and I'm already regretting my choice of outfit. My jeans are sticking to my legs.

"I said that's enough!" Mr Garret yells, and I nearly jump out of my skin. Cole, to my surprise, does actually shut up. He looks down, his eyes burning into the floor. The kiwi boy huffs, tipping his head back and closing his eyes.

"Names." he demands. Cole opens his mouth to say something, but the teacher interrupts automatically. "If you use a fake name, you'll only get yourself in deeper trouble."

"Cole Mitchel Sprouse." The boy says, exasperated. "You literally teach me every day!"

"I don't teach all of you." Mr Garret grumbles. "You two!" he spits at the others, who jump. His mood has deteriorated since Cole opened his mouth. "Give me your names."

"Camila Mendes." Says the girl, smiling politely.

"KJ Apa." The Kiwi mutters.

Cole splutters. "KJ? What kind of name is that? It's two letters!"

KJ smirks at him, arching a brow. He doesn't look pissed. "I'm from New Zealand. We tend to have different names over there."

"Yeah, no shit." Cole shoots the boy a grin.

"Quiet." I start to wonder if steam is going to start streaming out of the teacher's ears. Mr Garret glances at me. I know he already knows my name, but I find myself spitting it out anyway; "Lili Reinhart."

There's a moment of silence, except Mr Garret's heavy breathing as he writes out each detention slip. Finally, the teacher hands them out to us. Cole screws his up and stuffs it in his pocket. I keep ahold of mine. "Okay, you kids talk amongst yourselves while I find you a supervisor. I've got work to do, I don't have time for babysitting."

Cole looks like he's about to come out with a snappy comeback, and we all anticipate it. But he just blows a raspberry, ignoring the teacher. "Stay here." Mr Garrett mutters, before turning and heading to the teacher's lounge at the end of the corridor.

"If any of you bother making a run for it, you could face temporary exclusion!" He shouts over his shoulder. I expect the boys to ignore the teacher's warning and walk off, but they stay put. I stare down my detention buddies, matching them to dancers, singers or actors. The Brazilian girl looks like she can do all three. Then again, so do the boys. I wonder if they're in the special program, where kids can study all three, and then go on to become A-list celebrities. I find it hard to imagine any of them on the red carpet.

When we're alone, Cole clears his throat mockingly. "So Camila, what did you do?" he murmurs, smirking at the dark-haired girl. Camila shrugs and pushes her phone into her bag. "Some other girls and I were caught smoking weed under the bleachers," she giggles. "No biggie, though. I flushed it before Mr G could find any evidence."

Cole nods. "So we have a druggie on Team Detention," he mutters. "Nice."

"It's literally my first time, and I don't even think I inhaled correctly, asshole." But she's grinning at him, and he's smiling back.

"Team Detention, ay?" KJ scoffs, and Cole nods. I wonder if KJ is going to end everything he says with 'ay' though there's something about his accent that I love.

"Yes. I gave us a nickname," Cole replies. "Unless you can think of something better?"

The boy ignores him, but I catch the smile he's trying to hide.

"God, this school fucking sucks." Cole groans, voicing our thoughts out loud and slowly sliding to the floor and leaning back into the line of lockers. At first, I think he's only dramatising his words, but he doesn't get back up. After a moment, the Kiwi boy follows suite and then the girl drops down too with a sigh. I frown, and the three of them look up at me hopefully. Cole pats the floor half-heartedly. "You gonna join us, or are you going to stand there and die of heatstroke?"

Rolling my eyes at him, I bite back a retort before lowering myself too, stretching my legs out. He's right. The marble floor is cool and refreshing, and I find myself feeling comfortable. We must look ridiculous sitting on the floor, but it's too hot to stand, and my legs are aching. We sit in comfortable silence for a while, before Cole turns to me, and my heart flutters. I'm not sure if its fear flaring in my gut. I'm terrified of him teasing me again. But I also can't help noticing his eyes are this shade of green I've never seen before. He has that stupid smirk on his lips again.

"So what's your deal?" He murmurs. "Why did you dye your hair in the bathroom? I can feel the boy's bold brown eyes judging me.

I think about ignoring him, but that seems childish. Before I can hesitate, word vomit is tumbling from my lips.

"Seemed like a good idea at the time," I reply, shrugging at the boy.

Cole nods, smiling. It's the first genuine smile I've seen grace his lips. "I mean I'd say it was smart, but I hate to tell you, you've dyed your hands." he chuckles, and I feel an inferno spreading across my cheeks. KJ sighs. He's sunk so far down he's practically lying on the floor.

"I think Lili looks pretty good." he murmurs. He's staring at the ceiling, thoughtfully. My name sounds strange with his accent and I like it. It sounds like; 'Lee-lee"

"Yeah, it doesn't look half bad," Camila smiles brightly at me. "Plus it's kick-ass you did it in the school's bathroom," she slips to KJ's level, her hair an ebony halo spread around her. "Where's Mr G gone?" she groans. "It's like 104 degrees, I'm sweating my makeup off."

"If we actually bake to death, I'm haunting Mr Garret for the rest of his measly old life." Cole grumbles.

Though the second the words come out of his mouth, the door to the teacher's lounge flings open, and the four of us shoot up on instinct. I grab for my bag and jump to my feet, while Cole and KJ help Camila up, who's giggling, staying on the ground.

"So these are the delinquents?" I vaguely recognise the teacher. I've seen him around. He looks far too young to be teaching, at least in his early twenties. He's striding down the corridor with a grin on his face, a pair of ray bans on. There's another kid tailing him, looking ready to hit something. He's tall and gangly with short dark hair. I can't help notice he's wearing a Childish Gambino shirt, and I automatically like him.

"Good afternoon!" The teacher greets us with a blinding smile, and I see the urge in Cole's eyes to either insult or tease the man, but he's somehow holding it in. Instead, he stands there quietly, eyeing the man curiously, his arms folded across his chest. The teacher's grin is too wide, too gleaming. Like a shark's grin.

"Not really," KJ says. "Mr Garret left us out here for nearly half an hour."

The teacher nods. "Sorry about that," he gestures to the kid behind him. "I was having a slight disagreement with Casey here."

"Slight disagreement?!" The boy- Casey steps forward, lugging his backpack with him. He lets out a harsh laugh. "Mr Consuelos, I've told you a million times-"

"Call me Mark." The teacher says calmly, ignoring the boy about to spontaneously combust. I swear I can see veins pulsing in Casey's forehead.

"Fine! Mark," Casey spits out the teacher's name like venom on his tongue. "I had a dentist appointment!" He insists.

Mark nods slowly. "Mmm hmm. And like I told YOU enough times for me to turn it into a song," his tone darkens, and Casey loses the fire in his eyes, stepping back. "Do you or do you not have a note?"

Casey seethes, gritting his teeth. "No," he says. "I said I left it in my-"

"No excuses!" Mr Consuelos cuts in. "Now, Mr Cott, if you'd like to join your fellow offenders."

Casey doesn't move, standing his ground and the teacher shrugs him off. "Fine, don't," he mutters. Then to the rest of us; "Hello! I'll be taking you for detention today. My name is officially Mr Consuelos, but really, call me Mark. Anyway! So I have exciting news!" he claps his hands together. "You kids are going to help me something." his smile is pretty contagious. I found myself nodding and smiling along with him.

"Help you with what?" Cole questions. Mark looks like he's about to burst from excitement. "Well, what would you guys say if I said we'll be going on a field trip?"

"I'd say no thanks, I'd rather hang myself," Casey grumbles. Though Mark only chuckles, grinning at us as if we're supposed to be impressed. "You're going to do some digging for me," he said. "We're going to take my car and drive up to the old fields. Now there's a very special artefact I've been searching for," his tone is the one parents use with a small child to get them excited. "I was going to do it myself," his eyes sparkle, and Cole rolls his eyes. "Imagine my luck when Mr Garret hands me six troublemakers?"

"Six?" Cole frowns. "No, wait, there's only-"

"The young lady I caught earlier, video blogging, or whatever you youngsters call it, is already in my car." He grins widely at us. "So, what do you say?"

Before we can say anything, he laughs. "Wait no, what am I saying? You don't have much of a choice!" He cackles before turning, taking off down the corridor. "Follow me!" He yells loudly, his voice echoing down the hall. "I've signed all the paperwork, no need to worry, I'm not kidnapping you guys yet," he's already pulling open the doors leading down to the school's entrance. I'm not surprised when none of us move.

"We're wasting daylight!" Mark yells impatiently when nobody follows his lead. We all stay frozen, staring at each other in disbelief. I start to wonder if the heat is getting to our head's, and all of that was some kind of vivid hallucination.

"Okay then." Cole laughs after a beat. "That happened."

"Did he just say he's not kidnapping us...yet?" KJ murmurs, running a hand through his hair.

Camila has dug in her bag for a textbook and is using it as a fan, wafting it in her face. "I can totally take him down if he tries to, you know, bury us alive."

Casey actually laughs. I've already pegged him as someone with no emotion except anger. The laugh is a surprise. "Hey, that actually makes me feel a whole lot better?" he says sarcastically. "I'll be sure to yell your name when he's strangling me to death."

Cole cuts in quickly.

"Okay, first of all, that's dark. Casey do you need someone to talk to?" He grinned when Casey, blushing slightly, shot him the finger, his lips pulled into a mocking smile.

"And second; "Come on, how can we miss this?" Cole throws his arms over KJ and Camila as if they'd been friends since kindergarten. "Seven of us piling into a car that's probably about eight hundred degrees since it's hot enough to literally cook our insides, with a teacher none of us have met and driving to an unknown location to dig for a piece of rock that might not even exist!" He flashes me and a tooth-rotting grin.

"What could possibly go wrong?"

The last member to join our group, or what Cole has infamously called us; Team Detention is called Madelaine. Mark quickly told us her name before rushing off back to his office to grab digging equipment. Madelaine is pastel edit come to life; tall and slim, with pale skin wearing a sundress and a denim jacket that fits her perfectly. She's the kind of girl I can only dream of looking like, with long dark red hair tied into a ponytail, a pair of Rayban's pushing back her fringe. Madeline is sitting in the driver's seat of Mark's car, a shiny Blue Civic, blasting music that can be heard the second we set foot outside. I feel the heat straight away, wincing when I dare lift my head and squint at the blaring sun. It's like stepping straight into an oven. I can smell the distinct aroma of burning tarmac as we wait for Mark to come back, hopefully, with a bucket of ice I can pour on my head. My new hair is already sticking to the back of my neck with sweat.

I'm not saying we're all thrilled to go on this detention-field trip, but there's an element of excitement buzzing around us. Even if Mark's little outing still sounds shady as hell. I'm still wondering what so-called artefact is it he's so desperate to find.

"You gotta be kidding me," Cole groans. The five of us wait next to the car while Ariana Grande reverberates around the parking lot. "Does he expect us all to fit in there?" he presses his face against the back windows, peering inside. Casey glares at the redhaired girl just casually rocking out in the driver's seat, while we slowly cook to death in the heat. "The question is; how did Ariana Grande Junior even get in there?"

"With the key, duh," Cole mutters. The boy shoves him.

Madelaine doesn't act like she's seen us, even if she has. She's sitting back, her eyes shut, a huge grin on her face. Mark has disappeared to grab water for us all after Cole made a joke that we were actually going die of dehydration. Which doesn't seem that funny anymore now I'm actually standing in the baking heat. Luckily, before we came outside, Camila noticed I wasn't exactly in the best clothes for a late afternoon digging session in the boiling sun, so now I stand in a pair of denim shorts and a long t-shirt and sandals. I don't bother asking why she has emergency outfits stuffed in her backpack, I'm just grateful to be out of my sweater. The others have made minor adjustments also, making themselves suitable for what I'm pretty sure is child labour in someone else's book. Cole has rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, swapping his jeans for shorts, while KJ has completely abandoned his shirt altogether. I try hard not to stare at his incredibly built up and toned body. Camila doesn't exactly keep her thoughts to herself. The second the boy ripped his shirt off she was grinning from ear to ear.

"Uh, where have you been all of my life?" she had joked, giggling. But the girl was definitely checking him out. Her eyes flicked up and down his body, taking all of him in. I don't think I've ever seen a girl take that much interest in a guy. Though I'm not going to lie, KJ was one hell of a looker.

The Kiwi however, didn't seem to get the memo. "Are you flirtin' with me, ay?" he shoots her a smile, his brown eyes twinkling, and Cole makes a gagging noise.

Mark comes back, lugging a dozen bottles of water in a plastic carrier bag, and six shovels, throwing them all in the boot, before banging on the windows, signalling Madelaine to climb into the back seat. Funnily enough, he doesn't tell her to turn the music off, or even down. We all somehow pile into the back. I sit squeezed between Cole and KJ, while Madelaine, Casey and Camila sit literally pressed up against the windows, Casey practically in Camila's lap. Cole was right, it's roasting in the car. The leather seats burn into the backs of my legs. Mark jumps into the driver's seat and starts the car up. "There's a latch on the window if you want some fresh air!" he says cheerfully.

I'm not a rocket scientist, but I'm pretty sure having a bunch of high school kids squeezed into the back of a tiny car like this is illegal. There aren't even enough seatbelts to go around. If we crash, there's a chance of us all going through the windshield. Mark seems oblivious, however, instructing us to open the windows.

"Just under the glass, slide your hander under and pull the lever."

Casey finds it quickly, and thankfully the windows glide up, allowing us slight relief. "So where are we going again?" Cole speaks up, once Mark has reversed out of the parking lot. Ariana Grande is still playing. Madelaine and Casey have struck up a conversation, so good for them. The rest of us sit uncomfortably squeezed together like sardines. KJ's arm digs into my gut, but I don't say anything. Mark ignores Cole as he navigates late afternoon traffic, and after feeble attempts at getting his attention, the boy gives up.

The car ride doesn't take long. I spend most of it leaning over Cole, trying to bask in the breeze that blows my hair fervently. Casey tries sticking his head out of the window to get some air, since he is quite literally been squashed to death by Madelaine and Camila, but apparently, that's where Mark draws the line. That's where his authority came in. There's not much conversation, only the crackle of the radio as it plays outdated pop tunes that Mark hums along to, tapping the steering wheel impatiently through Red lights.

I watch the New York streets fly by in a blur of colourful lights, the sun's overwhelming haze blanketing everything in a dreamy, mellow glow. I love living in New York; it's like a whole different world. It was a concrete jungle, a dream maker. Creative minds moved here for a new start, a daring move or drastic change. New York was definitely different from Missouri, where I'd grown up. Which was 80% fields and not much anything else. We easily went through the Tuesday afternoon rush hour, and when I start to see less cars, fewer people and the same shades of Grey and Black enveloping the city changes to vibrant springs of green; fields stretching forever, scaped by the bright blue sky. My heart jumps a little. Mark keeps driving; first down a long, winding road which doesn't look familiar. Though then again, none of this does. Mark throws the car into gear and we climb up a hill. Looking out of the window sends my stomach vaulting into my throat. I can see the New York skyline below- a vast concrete blur, towering buildings and the sun's reflection bouncing between them as it bobs along the horizon. I nearly faceplant the passenger seat when Mark finally stops the car, yanking his keys out of the ignition and jumping out. Camila voices all of our thoughts when we're left in silence, the radio still a hiss of white noise. I could vaguely hear Muse. "This is it?" she hisses.

Apparently? I mean, I guess it looks like a digging site.

"Hurry up!" Mark shouts from outside. His shoes crunch in the gravel as he heads to the boot, yanking it open. I take a second to take in our surroundings, the others twisting around too. The smell of body odour when we all shift in our seats makes me feel nauseous. The six of us are a sweaty mass of confusion. And we fucking reek. I'd put on deodorant this morning, tonnes of it. But I'd underestimated how hot it actually is.

KJ lets out a breath, his brown eyes are narrowed suspiciously as he kneels on the seat, watching Mark unloads the shovels and bottles of water. "Where the hell are we?"

"Where he sacrifices his victims." Camila murmurs, giggling when the boy rolled his eyes, shoving her playfully. There's a soft smile planted across his lips.

After a beat, I copy KJ and kneel on my seat, the others do the same. We're on a hill. All I can see is grass. Mounds and mounds of grass surrounding us. Has he parked us in a field? I twist my head, scanning for farmers or tourists hanging around. Except all that greets me is the sun shining directly in my eyes. I wince, shading them quickly. Cole lets out a breath. His forehead is dripping with perspiration, his hair a sweaty mess stuck to his forehead. He's frowning. "Okay, maybe he is going to murder us."

"We can only hope." Casey grumbles. He turns and fumbles for the latch on the door. "How do you get the damn thing open?" he hisses impatiently. There's a click and the door flies open, Casey tipping backwards and nearly tumbling out. Camila laughs. "Dude, are you okay?" Jumping out far too enthusiastically for someone about to take part in a back-breaking digging session, she ignores the boy's polite protests of; 'I'm fine!" and yanked him out too. When I jump out too, Mark is already handing me a shovel. I take it awkwardly. The damn thing weighs a tonne, and I struggle to even lift it.

"The spot right here where this young lady is standing," He gestures to me, and the others crowd around, lugging along their shovels. "This is where I want you to dig."

"And what are we looking for again?" Madelaine scans the ground, kicking a rock with the toe of her boot. Mark smiles brightly at her. "It's called The Deomonvitus."

"Isn't that the thing from Scooby Doo?" KJ says, and when we all look at him, he shrugs. "You know, the thing that sucks the souls from people?"

"You still watch Scooby Doo?" Casey lifts head at smirks at KJ. It's the closest to a smile I've ever seen him.

"I meant the movie, asshole." The Kiwi mutters. He looks like he might say something else, but Mark interrupts; "Less talking and more digging."

The sharp edge of Cole's shovel hits the ground as he scoops up a mound of dirt. "Are we digging our own graves?" he smirks at Mark, and the teacher rolls his eyes. "Will saying yes make you dig faster?"

Cole opens his mouth to answer, but Mark shakes his head. "Dig." he says. "If you find anything, let me know."

KJ's leaning on his shovel, already looking exhausted. Camila stands next to him, while Casey and Madeline haven't even picked theirs up yet. "And what will you be doing?" the kiwi questions, his brow arched.

Mark chuckles. "I'll be in my car, of course!" he shoots us another one of his shark grins. "With the air-conditioning blasting." he winks, before backing away to his car. "Wait, are you kidding me?!" Cole yells, straightening up. "You had air-conditioning all along?!"

* * *

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	2. A series of unfortunate events

It feels like forever of digging, and listening to the others complain, when I finally look up, struggling to catch my breath. The sky is beautiful; an expanse of vivid reds and yellows mixed with hazy purple. Sunset. We've been at the site for at least a few hours. I can sense darkness creeping in, finally. Hopefully with a welcome blast of cool night air. For now though, the sun is still a relentless burn on my back that I can't ignore. The air is thick around me, almost suffocating, my skin coated with sweat, slicking my neck and the backs of my legs. My hand is clammy, grasping the shovel's handle. It keeps slipping through my fingers. I stopped caring about my appearance, after noticing giant sweat stains on Camila's shirt. I'm fine with looking like a swamp monster, since my fellow offenders don't exactly look any better. If not worse.

The fact is we're all covered in dirt, sweat and god knows what else. But somehow, the others look good. As if being covered head to toe in dirt and dust was a fashion trend.

Slowly lowering myself to the ground, I finally drop my shovel, and it hits the dirt with a metallic clang. The grass caresses my sore back, tiny wands massaging blistered skin. I've managed to make a dent in the ground, after nearly three hours of pulverising bone dry soil. The hole is small, but it's almost big enough to fit my feet in. Which I see as a success. Casting my gaze to the other members of Team Detention, I glimpse them in the shadow of the setting sun. Madelaine still hasn't picked up her shovel. She's sunbathing on the grass, lying in a crimson halo of hair. Her eyes are shut, velvet red lips curved into a smile. The girl seems to be in her own world, bathing in the sun's rays. Cole's shovel hits the ground with more force than necessary, the boy leaning on the handle to keep himself upright. He's unbuttoned his shirt, sheets of white material hanging off a smooth, olive torso. The mess of dark curls he kept running his hand through sticks to his forehead. He looks pissed. Cole has a habit of touching his face and hair, so he's ended up smearing half of his work load all over his cheeks and forehead.

None of us have pointed it out yet. I don't think we dare.

"Isn't this supposed to be a group thing?" he speaks up with an exasperated sigh, finally cutting through the silence. Nobody had spoke since Casey had yelled at Camila to stop singing Disney songs. Cole glares at the redhead, and the girl takes no notice. Maybe she's fallen asleep. "Meaning we all help out, and not lie there and sunbathe."

To my surprise, Madelaine laughs. But her eyes don't open. "You guys are doing a great job without me," she murmurs. "Honestly, guys. I'd just make it harder for you. Plus, it's like super hot. I don't think I'd be much help. I'd make a mistake."

Cole blinks at her. "It's digging a hole. You don't need a goddamn masters degree."

KJ stops digging too. He and Cole started their own hole, which they're working pretty well on. They've managed to dig deep enough for them both to stand in it. I'm almost envious. So the sun must truly be going to my head. The Kiwi somehow looks better dripping in sweat. Mark had to lend him a shirt, since he was in serious trouble of getting sunstroke. Pointed out by Cole, when he nearly collapsed after ten minutes straight of labour. Mark apparently keeps spare shirts in his car, which none of us questioned. Even if it is slightly alarming. It's a dress shirt. White. Perfectly complimenting the boy's golden skin. He tips his head back and groans, swiping dirt from his cheeks. "Dude, you can't just sit there and let us do all the work."

He pauses, sending Cole a look. The raven haired boy just scowled back, wrapping his hands around his shovel, as if getting ready to hit the girl over the head with it.

I've known the two of them for a little over three hours, and I already know KJ is the soft spoken one, while Cole doesn't have a filter.

"It's not really fair, is it?" KJ gestures to the holes we've made as a group, including mine. "We're already doing a pretty solid job, Mads. We could really do with your help, y'know?"

"The Australian is right." Casey joins in. He's been working with Camila, often brushing off her attempts to talk to him. So now the girl works in silence, stabbing at soil with her shovel, sometimes singing to herself. Casey picks up a mound of soil and dumps it in the growing pile next to the two of them. At the corner of my eye, Mark is sitting in his car with the door open. He's drinking a bottle of Coke. My mouth waters. It's been a while since I've had a bottle of water. There's a bag of them in the trunk of Mark's car. But we only get water when we find something interesting. So far, Casey's found a funny shaped rock, and Camila dug out what looked like a decades old coin. That earned us a bottle each. I drained mine so fast I don't even remember it running down my throat.

I just know it was good.

The corners of KJ's lips curve into a smirk. "I'm Kiwi, bro."

"And I don't really care, bro." Casey mocks KJ's accent. The Kiwi just rolled his eyes with a smile. "The fact is, Madelaine is sitting on her ass while we break our backs for some stupid hunk of junk which is probably fake." he stamps his foot into the head of the shovel, scooping up more dirt. After another load, the dark haired boy finally stops, letting out a breath. He's panting, blowing thick strands of hair out of his eyes.

Casey's the only one of us who isn't practically half naked. Camila has pulled off the shirt she'd covered in dirt, now wearing her bra and shorts. She looks ready to go to the beach, except her long, tan legs are filthy. Looking at her, my chest swells. She's beautiful. Her confidence is baffling. I long to strip off my own shirt, which is practically glued to my skin, sticking to my chest and back. But the thought of exposing myself in front of everyone makes me nauseous. Camila nods and lifts her head. She hasn't lost her bright smile, her eyes glittering under the wounded sun.

"The sooner we find this artefact, we can go home." her eyes flash to Mads hopefully.

Madelaine pushes her sunglasses further up the bridge of her nose. "You're nearly done anyway," she says shrugging. Her eyes flutter open, and the girl regards the rest of us with annoyance, her green eyes prickling with irritation. "Stop complaining and keep digging. It'll be dark soon. Do you guys want to dig in the pitch black?"

KJ leans forward, arching a brow. When I look at the sky, there's a smattering of clouds. I pray for rain. "Don't you think you're being little bit selfish, aye?"

Cole scoffs. "No, not a little bit selfish," his tone is harsh. "Incredibly selfish."

"Not really." Madelaine replies, seemingly unfazed by Cole. "Like I said, I'm no help. My slender wrists could get seriously damaged."

Cole's finally had enough. I can see it in the ignition of his features, the twist in his lips. "Slender wrists?" he chokes out, but KJ grabs his arm, shaking his head. Cole looks like he's about to start yelling at the girl, when I catch Mark heading over. This time he has an armful of cans. Unable to stop myself, I jump up, eager for a drink. Though the others follow suite. KJ and Cole abandon their shovels and climb out of their hole. Casey lowers himself slowly, tipping his head back with an exaggerated sigh. "Finally." His head snaps up, his gaze zeroing in on Mark. "So you chose not to let us die of dehydration then?"

The teacher shrugs. "I did consider drinking the cans myself, but what teacher would I be if I did that?" He laughs heartily, but Casey doesn't see the funny side.

"A child abuser?" He cocks his head. "On top of the child labour, of course."

Mark ignores him. He studies the holes in the ground, and then he looks at us. Covered in filth. Dust. Compared to us, he looks a million dollars. Though I can't help notice he seems... different. His shark smile is even more unnerving, and there's a glitter in his eyes I can't look away from. "I see you've made progress!" The man flashes us a ten kilowatt smile. "I knew some simple back-breaking work would knock you brats into shape."

Brats? I'm taken aback by the teachers words for a moment, but the others don't seem to notice. They're too busy staring at the drinks he's harbouring. I glimpse Sprite's, Coke's and Pepsi's. The glint in his eyes disappears, and I blink rapidly.

KJ sits next to Cole, yanking up his jeans and scratching at his legs. Camila plops down next to him, bringing her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. I notice her shuffle closer to the Kiwi, who's too busy enveloped in deep conversation with Cole to notice. The two boys sit shoulder to shoulder, whispering to each other like pre-teens. The girl looks like she might try and engage, before seemingly stopping herself and keeping distance.

Mark tosses Camila a soda and she catches it with a grateful smile.

"Mendes!" He booms. How's it going?"

"It's going great!" She grins as the teacher throws us each a can. I catch mine, cracking it open, enjoying the hiss of the seal breaking. It's fizzy orange and is mostly lukewarm, which isn't ideal. But in this heat I'll take anything. Without hesitating, I gulp the can so fast I barely taste the sickly orange burst hit my throat. It's the best thing I've ever tasted. Wiping my mouth, I can't resist a grin.

Camila tosses Madelaine a look. The redhead has sat up to indulge on a can of Sprite. I can practically see steam coming out of Casey's ears, as he watches her, resting his Cherry Cola on his forehead. No doubt for relief.

Cole takes a sip of Coke from a can he's sharing with KJ. They pass it back and forth, taking short gulps. I'm surprised they're even managing to share it. After a gulp, he shoves the can at the other boy, before standing up, folding his arms across his chest and streaking his hand through thick, dark hair. "Mr Consuelos, not that I like being a suck up, but Madeleine has done no work whatsoever. She's just sunbathed for two hours."

The redhead shoots him a dirty look. "It's no surprise that you have no friends, Cole. Any friends you do manage to reel in, you automatically stab them in the back." Her smile brightens. "Isn't that what happened in Freshman year?

The boy's lip curls. I expect no retaliation, but his eyes flash. "What? You're attacking me because I called you out for being lazy?"

Madelaine rolls her eyes. "I rest my case." She sighs and opens her mouth to offer an excuse to the teacher, but Mark has lost his warm smile. The kindness in his eyes drains away, replaced with something else entirely. Cole and Madelaine seem to reach the same conclusion. Mark's eyes darken, and I catch Cole's expression waver slightly, as if suddenly regretting what he's said. He slowly sits back down, bumping shoulders with KJ.

"Excuse me?" Mark says, and then repeats, practically spitting the words. "Excuse me?"

For a moment, the six of us are locked into a state of shock, at the outburst.

Mark huffs, his voice becoming a low grumble in his throat. "Is that true? You're not all working as a team when I specifically told you to?" He lets out a choked laugh which makes me jump, nearly spilling my drink everywhere. "What do you think is the point of this field trip, huh?" He starts to pace back and forth, his fists clenched. I can't help think of Cole's joke from earlier, as the teacher's eyes ignite with anger.

"Are we digging our own graves?" Cole's voice echoes in my mind, to which the man had laughed, still with that gleaming smile. "Will saying yes make you dig faster?"

My chest tightens.

Mark continues. "It's an exercise, kids! Team building! And to not follow my instructions? You didn't just not tell me about a team member refusing to work, you just watched it happen! Not once did any of you try and get her to fall in line!"

"Actually-" KJ starts. But Mark shakes his head. "I don't want to hear it. I don't want to hear your pathetic excuses anymore."

The glint in his eyes is back, and this time there's no mistake. My stomach slithers into my toes. I clutch my can tighter. Mark seems to deflate. "This just won't do, will it?" he glares at us. And I swear both Cole and KJ shuffle back. Casey doesn't move, and Camila looks like she's about to burst out crying. Mark surveys us, his movements slow and precise, his fingers pinching the skin between his brows. "Alright. There's a second digging site just down the hill. I'll take Casey and Madelaine. That way we can kill two birds with one stone." Mark shoots Cole a look. "Can I trust you four to stay here and keep digging? You've done a great job so far. I'm positive we'll find it."

"But..." KJ speaks up, sounding hesitant. "It's getting dark." He cocks his head, confused. "How are we supposed to dig in the dark?"

"Use my cars headlights." Mark replied.

Casey shoots to his feet, his expression twisted with protest. "Did the sun burn away all your braincells? I was actually digging with Camila. How is it fair that I'm being dragged to another site?"

"End of discussion. You're doing it."

"Seriously?" Casey hisses. "Detention is practically over." He turns to us, a scowl twisting his lips. "In case none of you idiots realised, because you've been playing Breakfast Club for the last three hours, It's nearly dark. In fact, I'd go as far to say that detention ended like an hour ago. And yet we're still here in the middle of nowhere, with a teacher I've never met who's trying to find some kind of ancient artefact."

The boy lets out a hysterical laugh. "Didn't any of you think that was just a little bit shady?"

Casey is right. I didn't notice the sun begin to dip below the horizon, blurring into light blues and mellow orange. It's never struck me how long we've been here. Though Casey voices my thoughts automatically. "What you're doing right now, is borderline kidnapping, Mr Consuelos. So we'd actually really like it if you took us back to school."

The teacher twists around to face the boy, this time his eyes are thunderous. Casey loses the fire in his eyes, the disgusted curl on his lip. He takes a few steps back.

Mark grabs the boy's shovel off of the ground and hands it to Casey, who silently grabs the handle reluctantly. His grin widens.

"You don't have a choice, Casey. I am your teacher and you are my student. You're in detention for breaking the school rules, and I decide when I let you go. If you don't do as you're told, I will keep all six of you all night." another grin. Shivers slip down my spine. "You don't want that do you? I'm sure all of you want to go home."

Casey ducks his head, muttering something.

"What was that?" Mark pretends to be hard of hearing. He cups his ear. "I don't think I heard you."

Casey doesn't look up. "I said yes, we want to go home."

"Wonderful. Now grab your shovel. You're coming with me." the teacher clears his throat, turning to the frazzled red-head. "Madelaine. Grab your stuff please. This time I'll make sure you actually participate, young lady."

To my surprise, the girl gets up, and picks up her shovel, joining Casey's side. She doesn't speak. As for the rest of us, he regards us with impatience.

"Well?" The teacher snaps. "Break's over. Dig." above him, the sky is turning light purple, bleeding into Twilight. I catch the others looking at it too, fear beginning to take over their mostly stoic expressions. I keep my head down and hold my breath.

There's a moment when I think the four of us would take a stand and refuse. But the manic gleam in the teacher's eyes drowns the protests in my throat. KJ gets to his feet, pulling Camila with him. The two of them are silent. I jump up too, grabbing my shovel before Mark can reprimand me. Cole joins us, but slowly. His arms are folded, and there are so many words on his lips I can see. Words he's too scared to say. Mark's gaze settles on the boy, and for the first time, the ignition in Cole's eyes, the raging fire, is none-existent. "Did you not hear me?" Mark barks. "I asked you a question."

"What?" the boy looks confused, and Mark lets out an exaggerated sigh.

"I asked you if you're capable of staying here on your own and continuing to dig." He leers at us. KJ pulls Camila closer to him, and I swear I feel Cole's hand brushing mine. The sky is darkening, We're in the middle of nowhere, I'm now almost 100% sure our teacher is a psycho. I can't even enjoy the cool air brushing my exposed shoulders, sending my hair spiralling in the breeze. The four of us stay close. I'm grateful for that. I'm grateful for Cole's fingers clasping for mine. "I'm fairly sure a mismatched group of offenders like yourselves will have no problem with that, right?"

Cole blinks. It's the first time I've seen him look wary. Vulnerable. "Yes." He says, casting his eyes to the ground. His voice is softer than I'm used to. It's almost jarring to see this side of him. "Yeah, of course. We'll stay here and dig."

Mark's eyes light up. His shark grin returns. "Wonderful!" he turns to Casey and Madelaine, who are waiting for him to lead them god knows where. "Cole is a brilliant example of a student following my instructions. Isn't that right, young man?"

The boy smiles back. But it's flat. There's no mischievous glint in his eyes. "Yeah, that's me." Cole says, a certain iciness to his tone. KJ and Camila frown at him, and I can't help staring at the way his shoulders slump in defeat. "Teachers pet."

Mark hums. "Then I'll put you in charge, then!" He says gleefully. "Can I trust you to keep an eye on your fellow delinquents?"

The boy hesitates, before nodding. He salutes mockingly. "You can count on me."

Casey snorts. "If this psycho kills us, Sprouse, I'm haunting you for the rest of your life."

Cole just stares back. I can see the helplessness in his eyes. Though Mark just laughs. "Oh, don't be ridiculous. Do you know how much trouble I'd be in?"

"That's what you're taking away from this?" Casey hisses.

Mr Consuelos clears his throat. "Casey, that's enough."

He gives the four of us one last look, before joining Casey and Madeleine. I let go of a breath I've been choking on since Cole called Mads out. "Remember to use my car's headlights!" he shouts over his shoulder. Casey whips around, our eyes meeting. He mouths something, and I get it automatically. His eyes are manic. "Call the police."

I only nod.

When we're sure Mark is gone, bounding into the shadows with Casey and Madeleine in tow, Cole turns, darting to the pile of clothes sitting away from the digging site. It's the clothes we took off during the sun's worst hours. I wrap my arms around myself, suddenly craving the warmth of my sweater. At first I think Cole is looking for something to wear, but then he drops to his knees, scrambling, pawing through filthy clothes. Though it's almost pitch black now, and we have no light. I rely on the shadows, sticking to Camila's side. KJ stands idly by, his brow arched. "Cole, what the fuck are you doing?"

"Shut up for a second, I need to think."

Camila folds her arms. She lowers her voice. "Shouldn't we be digging? You know, before he comes back and actually buries us alive?"

Cole lets out a frustrated hiss. "We don't need to dig." He pulls something out from under the bundle of clothes, and shivers creep up my spine. It's a strange object; a ring of sapphire coloured metal jutting out at different angles. KJ leans forwards, his eyes widening. "No way." He hisses. "You found it? the Scooby Doo thing?"

"An hour ago." Cole says shakily, holding the artefact out for us to look at. He meets my eyes. "At first I kept it hidden to surprise him. But then I realised he's a goddamn psycho. Which means he'll do anything to find it," He laughs, but it's more of a suppressed sob. "And that ladies and gentlemen, means that we've been kidnapped from the start." the boy shrugs. "Not the ideal Tuesday night, but I'll take it."

"Wait, kidnapped?" Camila squeaks. "But-"

"He might be a real teacher, and signed proper paperwork, but his intentions have been shady as hell from the beginning." Cole pulls a face. "Who takes a group of high school kids to the middle of nowhere for a late afternoon digging session?"

"Which means he's keeping us for however long he likes." I find myself saying, and Cole only nods grimly. "Exactly. We're getting the hell out of here. Right now."

Camila shakes her head. "No, we can't leave Mads and Casey with him. Are you serious?"

"We're not. As soon as we get to civilisation, we're calling the police." Cole runs a had through his hair. "Even if we did go try and get Casey and Mads back, we'd only get ourselves into more shit. Especially if we reveal we've found whatever he's looking for. We'd be walking right into a trap. Which is why we're getting the hell out of here."

KJ groans. "Suddenly my life is an episode of Ozark."

Camila frowns. "But isn't Ozark about drugs?"

"And kidnapping!" The boy hisses. "And aren't we, like, technically kidnapped right now?"

The girl reaches down to grab her shirt and pulls it on. "You sound almost happy." she pulls his shirt from the pile too, flinging it at him. I hadn't even noticed at some point he'd stripped off Mark's shirt too. "As much as I love looking at those wonderful broad shoulders, you should put something on before you get cold."

KJ nods, a soft smile gracing his lips. "Cheers, aye." he puts the shirt on, his fingers working quickly to button it up. I follow suite with my sweater, revelling in the warmth. The temperature has dropped, and the icy air is no longer a startling relief.

Cole is already making his way to Mark's car. The doors are still open, and he leans in, pulling the keys out of the ignition. There's a grin spread over his lips. "That crazy bastard actually thought we'd stay behind."

The raven head turned to the KJ, dropping the keys into the boy's hands. "You can drive, right?"

The boy nods. "Course I can." He shoots Cole a grin.

"Hold on." Camila hurries over, her arms wrapped around herself. "You're not seriously suggesting we steal his car? Do you want him to kill us, Cole?"

The boy rolled his eyes. "I'm sorry, did you have an amazing, never done before way of getting back to civilisation, which doesn't include walking into oblivion, with a psycho lurking at any given corner?"

Camila glares at the boy. "We can't steal his car." She says quietly. "It's against the law."

His lips curl into smirk. "So is the illegal possession of minors."

Camila doesn't smile back. "It's stealing a car, idiot. We could go to jail."

"We're escaping our kidnapper!"

"He didn't actually kidnap us! Sure, maybe he's unhinged and is definitely plotting to kill us, but he never physically took us against our will! How do we tell a judge?" She folds her arms. "What do we say? That he took us to a field and made us dig?" The girl rolls her eyes. "Did he stuff us in the trunk and tie us up? No. He was pretty fine until you had to tell him about Mads, and turned on his second personality."

"So you're blaming me now? I'm the reason why our teacher lost it?"

"You could have kept your mouth shut! He was fine!"

"I'm not having this conversation with you." Cole sticks his fingers in his ears. "The only way we're getting out of here, is in his car. Now, if you want to stay here and wait for him to come back? Be my guest. But KJ, Lili and I are leaving."

At first I couldn't figure out what the noise was, it was too loud even to be a jet engine. I'm about to look up, scoping the sky for one. But then I hear it again; a loud grumbling noise like thunder. Except instead of up above, the noise is coming from beneath my feet. For a moment, my ears pop. My stomach dives into my throat, before the ground seems to curve under my feet. I'm half aware of Cole's expression, his green eyes wide in terror, a mute scream on his lips, before I feel his hands on my shoulders, shoving me. Violently. I stumble back, losing all balance, and the boy's arms wrap around me waist. It feels for a moment, like I'm being swallowed up. My ears are shattered, my body feels weightless. When the sound bleeds back, and my head feels less lighter, I realise I'm half lying, half sitting on the plush leather seats of Mark's car.

Camila is next to me, but her scream is mute too, her lips shaped into an O. The girl's hair is blowing in my face, and all I can smell is strawberry and mango shampoo. I blink rapidly. All I can hear is the sound of the earth splintering beneath us.

The girl is clutching something to her chest. I realise it's the artefact. The boy's voices are swamped in my mind, like they're underwater. But I can just about make them out. "IS THAT-" KJ was tackling the wheel, struggling to get control of the car.

"An earthquake?" Cole's voice is far too high, bordering on hysteria. "Yeah. A big one."

I manage to sit up, only for Cole's voice to finally hit the sound barrier. "Drive!" He's yelling at KJ, who's clutching the steering wheel, mocha brown eyes wide. Lips twisted. The car is moving, but not like it should. It's lurching backwards and forwards. Bile burns my throat. "KJ!" Cole is screaming now, leaning over in the passenger seat. "Do you even have a goddamn license?"

The Kiwi struggles, stamping on the gas. "GTA counts, right?" He says shakily, flashing us a sickly smile. His face is pale, sweat glistening on his forehead.

Cole pales significantly. "Are you serious?" He hisses. "So, If we were on a PLANE. A real plane, KJ. would you offer to pilot it because you somehow navigated one across the fictional skies of Los Santos?"

The Kiwi finally snaps. "You asked me if I could drive, and I said yes, alright? What was I supposed to say?"

"No?" Cole hits back. "You could have said no and saved us being driven by a delusional idiot who thinks playing Grand Theft Auto is a valid excuse to drive a goddamn car!"

KJ grips the wheel tighter. "I know what I'm doing," he grits out. "Just hold onto something."

The raven head snorts. "What is there to hold onto?!"

I grab for a seat belt, and so does Camila. My hand however, hits nothing. There's no proper seat-belts. I sink my fingernails into the seats, trying not to look out of the window, where at the corner of my eye, a crack is splintering the earth, chasing us. Cole keeps his face pressed against the passenger window. His breathing is heavy, eyes wild. "KJ," he lets out a choked breath. "GTA license or not, it's fucking imperative that you keep driving, because if not, we are going to die."

"Got it." KJ growls back.

"Just do not take your fucking foot off of the gas."

"Can you stop ordering me around?"

I struggle to keep my lunch down as the ground turns into wave, tossing us in different directions. Cole and KJ engage in a yelling match, both boys fighting over the wheel, with Cole trying to step on it, while KJ is worried about crashing. Camila keeps her head pressed into her knees, clutching the artefact. I'm not sure why she's clutching it for dear life. It's when I'm staring out for the window, trying to find the crack in the earth, that is inevitably going to swallow us up, when I see something else, and my heart lurches. I don't see ground. The grassy banks I'm used to. The thick soil I've been attacking all afternoon. I see tiny pebbles. Thick metallic strips lining parallel to each other. I know exactly where we are, and yet my brain denies it, while panic surges through me, every conscious thought screaming at me to throw open the door and dive out of the car. The words are on my lips, which are numb. My heart pounds. My chest squeezes. I lurch forward in my seat, grasping for the the leather. Something to hang onto. Something to anchor me. Train. I choke on the words. There's a train.

Train. The word is a ghost on my lips.

And then I hear it. The sound slams into my ears, a vicious screech which sets my nerve ends on fire. I feel the rumbling vibration in the tracks. Camila twists in her seat and screams. I glimpse the flash of pale yellow light flickering in her eyes, illuminating her haunted expression. But unlike me, she can scream. She isn't paralysed, lips locked shut. KJ swears loudly. The car swerves and Cole grabs for the wheel. The Kiwi is hysterical, shooting Cole a look of alarm. "You led us onto a train track?!"

The other boy seems just as confused. He turns in his seat, the train's lights skimming his face. "I didn't know." He splutters back, hissing out in frustration. "The ground is splitting apart, moron! I don't have any other cohesive direction, except GO FORWARDS."

"Didn't you see the tracks?" KJ yells. Another violent swerve, this time sending my head smacking against the glass of the window. Stars explode in front of my eyes. "You're the one yelling at me, and you lead us directly onto a fucking train track!"

The train horn sets something off inside me, urging me to jump out. A scream claws into my throat, but I bite it back. It's getting closer. And we have no way out. Cole is right. The only way is forwards, while our left and our right split open before our very eyes. KJ stamps on the gas. "I'm going as fast as I can," he's gasping for breath. "Just stop pressuring me, okay? Stop breathing down my neck, mate, because it's not-" He trails off, his eyes suddenly on something else. Mocha browns widen. "Wait, is that smoke?"

Cole doesn't hear him. "Watch out!"

With KJ distracted, the car this time is thrown violently forwards, as the ground in front of us sends us into a tornado of dust and dirt smattering the windshield. I have to grab the back of the drivers seat, wrapping my arms around it, Camila smacking into the window. I didn't see KJ's head ramming face first into the steering wheel, his shaking hands suddenly going limp. It's Cole who yells out his name, and I'm conscious of the boy shaking the Kiwi, who has slumped in his seat, head hanging. There's blood trailing down Cole's temples, illuminated in harsh light as he struggles to grab the wheel.

"Lili!" He's crying, his gaze on the path. Another sharp screeching crashes into my drums, and I'm once again still. Paralysed. "Lili, I need you to check him, okay?"

Breathe. I tell myself. The rumbling outside has stopped. The only shaking now is the train rattling the rails. Forcing oxygen into my lungs, I steel myself.

Breathe.

"Lili!" Cole's cries are sharper. Colder. We hit something, but I'm not sure what. KJ's head snaps back, and my heart flips. His face is pale, a pool of vivid crimson pooling from his nostrils. "Lili, listen to me." Cole says calmly. "I need you to check to see if he's okay, because I-" he hiccups. "I need to keep my eyes on the goddamn road."

Taking a deep breath, I bite down my own hysterics, and lean forward, trying to stay upright. Cole nods. "Okay." he says shakily. "Camila, keep an eye on the train."

I have barely any medical knowledge, other than a vague idea of CPR. Brushing strands of light brown hair from his eyes, I let my fingers glide across his skin, expecting it to be cold. But the boy's cheeks are still warm. His breath still flits from parted lips. I press two fingers against the boy's neck, and then his chest. I get a pulse and a heartbeat. Relieved tears fill my eyes, sliding down my cheeks. Camila is sobbing behind me, keeping her back to us. "He's okay." I manage to gasp out. Though I can't speak for the blood trickling from his nose. I pray it's just broken, but I can't help feel like it's something more. But I can't think like that. KJ is breathing. He's okay.

"He's just knocked out." I manage to tell the others.

Cole lets out a shaky laugh. But it's relief. He shoots me a quick look, grasping the wheel. "Good. The dude drives like a maniac."

Being as gentle as possible, I let KJ sink back, making sure his head is pressed into the back of the seat. "Right." Cole sucks in a breath. "Lili, I need you to move KJ to my seat, and I'm gonna take his, okay? So I can get us the hell out of here."

His words register in my mind, but my gaze isn't on Cole, or the knocked out KJ. It's on the thick plumes of smoke I can see twirling in the air in front of us. It dances in the din, pirouetting in the glow of the headlights, as if teasing us.

Smoke. KJ's last words reverberate in my mind. I jump back, letting out a sharp breath.

Cole grip slackens on the wheel. He looks helpless for a moment. His eyes stuck to his own clammy hands. "Get out." He whimpers, and then louder, turning to face Camila and I. "If we don't get out of this car in sixty seconds, it's going to blow." his expression is crumpled, his hands tearing at his hair. "Fuck." He hisses, and then slams his fists into the wheel. "Fuck!" turning to the unconscious boy, Cole presses his fists into his eyes. "We need to decide what we're going to do with KJ," his voice is trembling, eyes red raw. "Because I promise you, if we stay any longer, if we waste time to drag him out with us? We'll die. The train will almost definitely hit us, and we will fucking die."

Camila shakes her head. "No." She says stiffly. "No way. We're not leaving him!"

The raven head rakes his fingernails down his face. "We have no choice!" He grits out. "We don't have time to study the fucking trolley problem, okay? It's KJ, or all of us getting KO'd by a train. And no offence? But I've known the dude for like three hours."

"So you'd sacrifice him to save yourself?" Camila cries.

"He's knocked out! How the hell are we supposed to get him out in time?"

I stay silent. Stiff. Letting the vibrations of the tracks rock the car. One look at KJ tells me that we can't leave him. If we did, and survived, I'd never forgive myself.

"We're getting him out." I surprise myself, cutting into their back and forth. When Cole gives me an incredulous look, I chew my lip. "He'd do the same for you."

The boy groans. "Debatable." He mutters, but then he's abandoning the wheel and grabbing KJ, hauling the boy across the seats. The car comes to a dizzying stop, and Cole slams his shoulder into the door. But it doesn't open. He tries the latch, yanking and pulling on it. Except nothing happens. "The door," He says. "I can't get the door open."

Camila's head snaps up. I'm only aware of the train drawing closer, gravitating towards us. Closer. The screeching of of metal hitting rails. The girl's voice is a hysterical screech, matching the noise of the train. "What do you mean you can't get it open?"

The boy, to my surprise, laughs. He lets go of KJ, and slams his shoulders into the door, and then crawls across the seat, trying the passenger side, beating at the glass with his fists. "What else could I mean? I mean I can't get the goddamn door open!"

Swallowing a pained cry, I try my door. But it's stuck. My hands paw for the lever, but when I pull it, nothing happens. All I can do is stare in horror.

Camila is the same. Her door is stuck. The passenger and driver doors are all shut tight.

Cole falls back into his seat. He's panting. "We're dead." he whines. "We're going to die." his eyes find mine, and I have no words. He says something, but it's drowned out by the horn of the train closing in on us. Tipping his head back, he blows out a breath and squeezes his eyes shut. "There's nothing we can do." He confirms the inevitable. All I can do is sit back, leaning into Camila, to grasps onto my arm and squeezes tight. KJ is still knocked out, and part of me wants to try and wake him up. If this is really it, if we're going to die, he deserves more time. But the rest of me argues that being knocked out would be better. He would barely feel it. I will. Shivers seep up and down my spine, setting my body on edge. I will feel everything, and there's now way stop it.

The car continues to rock, enduring the vicious vibrations from the tracks. When the light brightens, blinding us, at first I think it's my imagination. But the static is unmistakable. The radio roars to life, and a song drifts through the speakers. I don't recognise it. Or maybe I do, but the lyrics don't register in my mind. It's a pop song. That I know from the bouncy beat crackling through wisps of screeching static.

When I'm closing my eyes, waiting to die, something beeps. Followed by cold air hitting me in the face, blowing my hair back. My eyes fly open, and I find myself staring at the outside. At the smoke swirling around us, enveloping us in a cloud. At the train tracks rattling. The moon hangs in an inky black sky. It takes me several disorienting seconds to realize the doors are open. All four doors are open. My heart jumps into my throat.

Except we're too late. Cole leans his head back in his seat with a heavy sigh. He lets out a choked laugh, and at the corner of my eye, Camila bends over in her seat, reaching for something I can't see. "Well." Cole chuckles, sending me a half hearted smirk.

"That's just bad fucking timing-"

Cole is cut off by an almighty roar, what sounds like a beast pulverising my skull. I feel the impact. I didn't think I would. I thought it would be quick. Darkness. That's what it's supposed to be, right? You're not supposed to feel the hit. Because your body is already dead in seconds flat. But every sensation hits, and my body stays alive, suspended, long enough for me to feel everything. My hearing goes first, sucked from me, like the breath in my lungs. I feel myself being propelled forward into a mismatched whirlwind of twisted metal and glass, colliding with me. I feel the fire raging through me, burning me inside out, a vicious storm plunging me further and further into oblivion.

But it's not over, and I want to scream. I want to cry, but my lips no longer feel mine. My voice is trapped in a throat ripped away. I'm still here, I think, panicking. But how can I have panic? How can I have fear without a body, without a mind?

How long will this go on for? How long can I stay self aware without myself?

The silence is deafening. The darkness closes in on me, pulling me further and further. But I don't fall. I can't fall. I have nowhere to fall to. I am nothing.

Though I fail to feel something. Wherever I am, and whatever I've come to be, feels it, and yet I have no nerve endings. I have no body to feel this.

But I do.

I feel it ignite inside of me, blossoming, growing brighter and brighter. It's so warm. So gentle. It caresses me. The last fragments of who I am, trapped in a void.

It pulls at me. And I let it, allowing it to seep inside, flowing through phantom veins, tangled threads that I can't see, but feel, intertwining around my being.

And suddenly I'm not scared anymore. I revel in the darkness, and the feeling of having no body. No voice. Only splintered thoughts.

And with that comfort, I finally let go.

* * *

 **small sneak peek for next chap :D make sure to tell me you're reading so i can post more.**

* * *

Looking up in surprise, I meet eyes with familiar torpid greens, and my heart nearly catapults out of my chest.

Cole cocks his brow. He looks dishevelled. He's pale, shadows dancing under his eyes. His hair is a fluffy mess under his beanie. I notice he's wearing the same clothes as yesterday, hidden by his checker jacket. His camera is nowhere to be seen. "So you are real." He says shakily, leaning in, his breath is ice cold in my ear. "I'm not crazy, right? Last night. We, uh-"

"Died?" I keep walking, fastening my pace across the cafeteria. He hurries to catch up. "KO'd by a train sounds better, but yeah."


	3. Chapter 3

I wouldn't call it being awake, or even alive. I don't know where I am, drifting in oblivion, surrounded by the sound of TV static, a low buzzing noise which sounds like someone has planted a nest of bees into my brain. I try to ignore it, try to focus on finding my breath. My chest. My lungs. The body that I've lost. But it grows louder; more persistent. An ongoing buzzing growing more intense, like the bees are burrowing into my skull, gorging on thick tissue and matter. When I don't think it can get any worse, it begins to shriek as if a radio is being tuned in, skipping stations one by one. After tolerating it for longer than thought possible, I feel a sharp pull- something yanking me back into a splintered reality that I was torn away from. I died. I know I did. I felt my death. I felt the moment I was ripped away, leaving my broken body. I remember the scarlet stream of blood glistening down Cole's cheek. His terrified eyes and twisted lips. I remember the feeling of KJ's warm skin as I struggled to find a pulse, find an indication that he was still breathing; slippery with sweat, crimson smears staining his upper lip, closed eyes almost peaceful as he sat limp in his seat, hands slipping from the steering wheel. I remember Camila's haunting scream still reverberating around my mind, a banshee cry rattling my ears. She's still there, crying out into my skull.

"Lili!"

Camila's voice is still very much there, a ghostly wail sending my heart into a frenzy. This voice sends, however, sends me into an upright position, choking on the scream that punctured me when I felt the impact of the train. When I lost my body. My voice.

When I died.

Taking several breaths, I revel in the feeling of sucking in gulps of oxygen after momentarily losing touch with my breath. My chest. My lungs. Everything was so cruelly ripped away, so how can I be sitting here? In my bed. At home. My safe place, where I know nothing can hurt me. After what feels like a millennia of being trapped in oblivion with no body and mind, no mouth to scream with, I can feel myself once more. I have control again. Opening my eyes, and through a deluge of sweet, mellow sunlight drifting through my blinds, I'm greeted to my room. It's the same as I left it. Clothes are still strewn all over the floor, old scripts and books littering my desk. For a moment, the sight of my room is enough to bring me to tears. I've hated my room since I hit puberty, sick of the childish pink, the scattered glowing stars on the ceiling and collection of stuffed toys my mom insisted I kept for nostalgia. But looking it now, a smile slowly spreads over my lips and I blink rapidly, struggling to anchor myself to reality.

My reality. The world where I am invisible. Where I have no friends and no intention to find any. Where I felt comfortable, yet lonely. That is my life.

And yet...unlike dreams, this one refuses to dissipate, crawling into the back of my mind, with all my other nightmares. Instead, it's a starling clarity I can't blink away, no matter what I do. Dreams feel disconnected when I wake up. They faded away, leaving me pawing at fragmented glimpses still clinging on, only to shatter the more I woke up. But this is different. This feels like a memory, like hours ago. Except there's no evidence of it. I'm in my bed, even if I can't remember falling asleep. But even if it was a dream, nothing but my imagination getting the better of me, I still feel the phantom pain of my body shattering. My blood is a flood of fire, an inferno streaming through my veins, burning me inside out once again. The scream however, does not tear from my lips that are mine again, I realise, after swallowing a thick coat of bile stuck to the back of my throat. I swallow it down, struggling to suppress a brewing panic attack beginning to take hold of my lungs, slowing my breath to short little gasps.

Not real. The words spring to my tongue, and I'm left choking on them, on breath that I can't hold onto. Their faces flash in my mind, each one in vivid lucidity. They feel almost tangible, as if I could reach out and run my hands through Cole's thick brown hair and glide my fingers down his cheeks, wiping away the blood which contrasted shining olive skin so perfectly; as if he was a canvas. No matter how hard I try, I can't wipe away KJ's laughing mocha eyes and Camila's wry smile. Even the scowl carved on Casey's lips. Mark's shark grin. They feel too real to be imaginary. I drop my head into my hands, trying to bury their faces into my mind. But something is wrong. Their names. They've stayed with me, like the others. Names that should have drifted away, should have been plunged into oblivion like every other childhood nightmare I'd driven into the dark.

Tears roll down my cheeks for friends that I thought were real. That I had in fact imagined. The thought that strikes me is a lightning bolt, spasming up and down my spine, filling me with prickling electricity. They're not real. None of them are real.

But their expressions, their voices; Cole screaming at KJ to drive, Camila sobbing into her knees. Mark and Casey and Madelaine. All of their voices come to life in my head, a symphony orchestra bleeding into my mind in so much clarity. So real.

And so not.

It was just a dream. That's the first coherent thought that pops into my head, after the hurricane hitting me when I woke. The second, that I'm sure about to throw up.

"Lili!"

My head snaps to the doorway, and I find myself staring at my mother. More importantly though, the horrified look on her face. My mother has always strived for perfection. I share her golden curls and bright green eyes. I got dad's bad eyesight, dark skin tones and freckles, but mom's skin is almost albino white. Though I've always felt lucky to inherit her strong jawline and button nose. I didn't, however, inherit her height. She towers over my door, a blur of bedhead and fluffy robe. I'm use to the look of disappointment on her face, when I get up late for school. Though her expression this time is almost amusing. Her eyes are wide, lips curled into what might turn into a scream. I stare back, trying to locate her usual prim ponytail and plastic smile. She practically radiated in the morning. It was probably one of the expensive oils she used. But I can't find any of that today. She's still in her silk pyjamas and gown, blinking at me through frazzled strawberry blonde curls as if I'm a figment of her imagination.

"What happened to you?"

Her voice is a little below a shriek, and I jump slightly, snapping out of reverie. Mom looks like she's about to burst into tears, and I don't know what to say.

"Mom?" My voice is a hoarse whisper. I sit up in bed, trying to ignore the fact that every bone in my body aches. "What are you talking about?"

Her lip curls. She looks like she's going to start screaming, and this is not a part of my mother I know. All I know are the strict lectures and rolled eyes when I refuse to tidy my room. This woman is more of an impostor. She lets out a sharp cry. "What am I talking about, Lili? Where were you last night?" she demands, her cheeks growing progressively more red, like a tomato. "Sweetie, what did you do to your lovely hair?"

At first I have no idea what she's talking about. "What?"

But then I'm absently trailing my hands through straggles of my hair, when I catch flashes of deep crimson streaking golden strands. It remind me of my dream; blood smeared on skin so pale, on a boy I thought was dead. Retracting my hand, I choke on a cry, and then grab at my hair, running my fingers up and down partitions. The images come flitting back, crashing into me like a wave of icy water. Kicking away my bed sheets I stare down at myself. My sweater is covered in dirt and grass stains, as are my legs. My bare feet peek from the foot of the bed, discoloured and rugged. For a moment I'm sure my heart has stopped. Bile burns in my throat. There's no mistake, and no matter how hard I try and find some kind of explanation why I'm covered in dirt like my dream, I can't.

Because it wasn't a dream.

"And this!" Mom holds something up, and I recognise the salmon pink detention slip pinched in her fingers. My stomach jumps into my throat. Yesterday's events hit me once again, this time in complete clarity. Being thrown in detention, meeting the others, the stuffy car-ride and digging session that bled into early Twilight. I swallow hard. The earthquake. The train. If mom has noticed my cheeks go significantly pale, she doesn't say anything, waving the slip of paper. "Detention, Lili? And you didn't tell me? You didn't tell me you ruined your lovely hair?" Mom looks like she's on the edge of a mental breakdown, her voice shaking. "Where were you last night? When did you come back?"

The words are at the back of my my throat. I don't know, mom. I don't know how I got back here, because I'm pretty sure I'm dead. Or crazy. Maybe both. While part of me is horrified at embracing the reality that last night was real, a small part is relieved. A small part indulges that the kids I thought I imagined, are in fact real. No longer figments of my imagination that I can't brush away, everything about them is real, and I struggle to come to terms with it. Because as well as being real, as well as being living and breathing kids, so called Team Detention, a group of three I was happy to call my friend, I'm also sure that they're like me. They died along with me, trapped in our teacher's car and blanketed, choking in smoke. All four of us had been hit.

I can still feel the impact of the train driving the breath from my lungs, crushing me, sucking all the sound from my ears. It was the strangest feeling. Like floating above my shattered body, and becoming one with the air around me. But I'm alive. There's no evidence to suggest being wiped out by a train. Shuffling uncomfortably, I test out my legs and arms, tipping my head back. My spine should have snapped. My neck and skull should have been pulverised to dust. I felt it. I felt my death, so how can I be here? How can I be alive? Closing my eyes, I concentrate on those last moments. I can feel the leather of the seats pinching between my fingernails, warm blood trickling down my nose, after hitting the window. Cole and KJ had been in the front seat. They couldn't have gotten out. Cole's sad smirk. The boy was looking at me in our last moments, with lips I'm sure wanted to say more. His flickering eyes ready to accept an inevitable death. Camila was next to me. I can still hear her sobs seeping into the back of my mind, feel her sharp nails stabbing into the flesh of my arm. KJ was knocked out. I see him sprawled across front seats over Cole's trembling knees, his shock of brown hair covering closed eyes, a face so startlingly white, illuminated by flickering light, and so much red. An ooze of deep, deep scarlet trickling from parted lips still flitting breaths.

Mark. His face flashes in my mind. A face I'd much rather was in fact a dream. Casey and Madelaine, who had been taken against their will, slipping into the shadows. I see Madeleine's hair, a cascade of crimson bouncing on cream shoulders; lips curled into a mischievous smile, while she soaked up the sun. Then there's Casey, green eyes wide with fear. The first emotion I'd seen apart from anger. Fear didn't suit him, and yet I'd seen it light up his normally stoic face, his lips mouthing words that shattered my heart.

Call the police.

Real. It takes me several seconds to register in my mind.

They were real. All of them. Team Detention, and our psycho teacher.

My stomach recoils again. For a moment, all I want to do is confide in mom. I've always told her everything since I was a kid. But this isn't something I can blurt out, unless I want to be tossed into a psychiatric ward. I can almost hear myself. See myself. I watch the shadow of myself climb out of bed, stumbling across my pink fluffy rug, and diving into my mother's arms. She smells of sweet roses and lavender, and I bury my head in her chest, breathing it in, letting the sweet smells seep into my senses. She would stroke my hair, tutting at the mess I'd made of it, and I'd pull away with tears rolling down my cheeks, spluttering on words that seem crazy. Seem impossible. But this version of me believes she will understand. That she will know what to do. I pull away with swollen eyes and try and explain why I'm so filthy. But there's no logical explanation on my tongue, so I spit everything out, all the crazy truth that I'm sure is reality.

"My teacher is a psycho, and I was forced to dig up some random artefact, and I don't even know if it's real. And then this...this earthquake. It came out of nowhere, and then the train...we got stuck, and this guy, he was knocked out. I thought he was dead, and then there was smoke. I thought I was going to die...no." I stopped, shaking my head, tears free-falling. "No, mom. It hit us. Oh god, it hit us. It...it hit us, mom..."

While I shattered, pieces of me breaking apart, I would start to laugh at the irony. "I made friends. Real friends, mom. Friends I've been wanting for so long, and they-"

They were wonderful. That's what I wanted to say. The perfect clash of personalities coming together. They made me feel less alone. Less invisible.

Then I would become a child again, sobbing into her chest, struggling to breathe, gasping on oxygen that won't make it to my lungs. I'd take deep breaths, but I can't breathe. I can't cry. I can't scream. Clutching her tighter, I let out a stammering breath, choking on convoluted words. I'm five years old again, gripping the material of her silk gown between my fingers, trying to find an anchor. But instead of falling over in the playground and crying over skinned knees, I'm struggling to piece together a reality I'm sure is real. But it can't be. My child self would hit me, seeping inside my thought process, twisting the words on my tongue. "I was hit by a train, mommy."

I was five years old again, peering at my mother, tears streaming down my face.

"And they died along with me. I felt it, mom. I felt my death. I felt the pain. I felt the train hit me, I felt it envelope me, crushing me into dust. Everything exploded, and I don't know what happened. I was dead, and now I'm...now I'm here."

There would be a pause, and I'd struggle to catch my breath, while my mother's gaze wouldn't leave me, her cheeks growing progressively paler.

She would look at me, her expression twisting with horror. "Drugs." She'd say quietly, studying my swollen eyes and pallid cheeks. "Drugs, Lili?" she'd say louder, her wonderful blue eyes that I've always loved, igniting with anger. She would pick out my words and twist them, because believing me wouldn't even grace her mind. "Have you and these new friends.." she pulls a face. Of course she'd highlight the others, connecting dots. They were in detention with me, so of course they were the scum of the earth. When I'm pretty sure it was their first time too. At least for KJ and Camila. Cole strikes me as a boy who breaks the rules for the sake of it; a smart ass who enjoys the attention. His face is still fragmented in my mind. That last smile. The sad curl of his lips, the crusted blood on his temples, shining on olive skin glistening with perspiration.

"These...oh goodness, these delinquents! These detention buddies of yours! Have you been taking recreational drugs? Is that why you were so late?"

And that, is when I'd give up, realising that no matter what I said, my words wouldn't ever register in such a prim and proper mind. A sceptical mind that only relied on logic and science. This is something else. Something neither science nor logic.

"What?" I'd shoot back. "No, mom. No, I'm telling the truth! Mom, I died!"

She wouldn't listen to me. I know that. She'll think I've lost it.

Blinking myself out of the scenario playing out in my head, I hold my breath. I can't tell her. Something like this needs to be locked away in the back of my mind.

Even if I long to talk to her, long to cry out and unleash the fear and confusion bubbling inside me, I swallow it down. I used to be afraid of talking back to my mother, dreading lectures over nursing cups of coffee and buttered toast. But something inside me has changed; a dazzling, confusing mix of confidence and bravery strikes me, and I find myself shrugging my shoulders. I can't tell her the truth. I can't tell her what really happened. So I try to smile, try to make out like I'm okay. "I dyed my hair, mom."

My facade sucks. I'm a third year drama student, and I can't even give her a plastic smile. A notion that I truly am okay. But I can't hide the fact that I'm slowly splintering. Her eyes widen. "What on earth for? You had lovely hair, Lili! My goodness, you look like a circus act!" She waves the detention slip, still scowling. "It says here you dyed it in the school bathroom! Sweetheart, why didn't you ask me first?"

The words are on my lips automatically. Because you wouldn't let me, I want to say. You would never, ever let me. Because you want me to stay your perfect little girl.

Instead, I force what I hope is a smile. And with that, comes a shock of electricity running through me, igniting me with an energy I'm not used to. I jump out of bed, but the second my bare feet hit pale blue carpet, I slap my hand over my mouth, nearly falling off balance. The overwhelming urge to vomit has been plaguing me since I woke up. Except the feeling dissipates quickly, leaving me feeling like I'm walking on thin air. My head spins jarringly, but I catch myself, managing to straighten up.

"Lili?" mom's voice is riddled with worry. "Baby, are you okay?" she recoils when her gaze snaps to the smears of dirt on my legs and splattering Camila's shorts. "Whose clothes are they? Oh god, Lili, what have you done to yourself?"

"A party." is all I can reply. "I went to a party, mom."

"A party? On a school night? Lili Reinhart, you're grounded."

I have to relay her words in my mind, trying to process them. Am I okay? I was hit by a train and died with three classmates, and now I'm standing in my perfectly pink bedroom, not a scratch on me. Not one hair out of place. "I'm fine." I reply. But the words feel wrong. I'm fine. They're like poison on my tongue. Instead of caving, and telling her the truth, I repeat the words in my head like a mantra, forcing myself to believe it.

I'm fine.

I'm fine.

Oh fuck, I'm definitely not fine.

The words follow me to the bathroom. Mom leaves me, heading downstairs to make breakfast. I busy myself getting ready. Standing in front of the mirror in the bathroom, I stare at my reflection, grasping the cool marble of the faucet tightly, trying to figure out who the girl staring back at me is. Because she doesn't look like me.

Instead, a stranger stares back.

Yesterday feels a whole other world away. When I'd glared at the perfect blonde girl with hair reaching her tail bone and sad blue eyes, twisted lips curled with anger. Now, all I'm staring at is a shell. My hair falls in front of my eyes that look faded. Pale blue and washed out, as if my very soul has been ripped out. My cheeks are stark white and my face is thinner. My jaw line is sharper, more defined. I'm not sure if I should be happy. I've always wanted a face that stands out. But not like this. My eyes look almost unnatural. Fake. They no longer look like my mother's, and part of me splinters at that realisation. I wished to be seen, to not be a ghost on the fringe of St John's corridors, a shadow in a crowd of sophomores bustling around. But this isn't what I meant.

My skin is like a beacon soaked in moonlight, and it's impossible to look away from. I find myself entranced by my own eyes. Steel blue-grey eyes, the colour of sun bleached forget-me-not petals ringed with deepest indigo, the colour of bleached jeans, the colour of a Norwegian glacier, cornflower blue, palest watery blue like the eyes of a ghost.

Ghost. The word makes me feel dizzy. I'm a ghost.

Brushing my fingers across my temples, I closely study my skin There's not one blemish. Nothing to suggest I was slammed into by a train. Nothing to suggest that I'm dead. I'm fucking dead, and nobody else sees it. But I see it. I feel it, and knowing that I died, and I can't talk to anyone except kids who I hardly know - it's killing me, a constant strain on my chest. I pull off yesterday's sweater, and step into the shower, scrubbing at the dirt ok my legs until my skin is pink and sore. All while trying to ignore the blossoming red bruise over my right temple. I can still feel the sensation of my head smacking into the glass of Mark's window, a neutron star collision setting off in front of my eyes, which closely accompanied a dull pain striking like bolts of electricity.

The water is refreshing on my face as I duck my head under the stream, tackling the dial for a hot burst. But the temperature doesn't change, even when I check and double check the dial. It's on the piping hot option which means the water should be burning my back. But instead I barely feel anything, pressing my forehead into the cool tiles and closing my eyes.

I'm dead. The words are stark in my mind, dominating my thought process. But I ignore them, shaking them away. Hastily, I step out the shower and towel myself dry, pulling on clothes I grabbed quickly; a white blouse and skinny jeans. After dragging a comb through the mess of my hair, I tie it into pigtails, before pulling them out and fastening my usual ponytail. I have to be Lili Reinhart today, even if I feel nothing like her.

Even if I feel like a shadow of her.

Grabbing my backpack, I shoulder it quickly, before heading downstairs. Mom is in the kitchen, and there's a fresh plate of scrambled eggs on the table. My gaze snaps to the eggs, and my stomach churns, bile once again climbing up my throat. But at the same time, my mouth waters. I'm starving. The sight of the eggs gives me mixed feelings, like part of me wants to scarf them down while they're hot, while the rest of me wants to get as far away from them as possible. Steeling myself, I start towards them, before the smell engulfs my senses and my stomach lurches again, my hands growing clammy.

I'm not taking the chance. Mom will never let me go to school if she thinks I'm sick, when I know I'm not. It's after effects of what happened last night, I'm sure of it. My body isn't used to dying, and then somehow miraculously coming back. All that I know is that I need to talk to the others, to make sense of this thing before I go crazy, before I my sanity slips. Because whatever is happening to me, is surely happening to them. They must have woken up feeling different. Wrong. Dead. At least I hope so. Though that is if they're still here. The thought strikes me; what if I'm the only one who survived?

Shaking my head of the thought, I thank mom for the breakfast I didn't touch, and feeling like I'm still dreaming, like I'm walking on air, I head to school.

School is the same. I slip into the shadows as usual, darting from class to class, trying to glimpse the others in the bustle of students around me. But I don't see any of them. By break, my heart has sunk into my gut. Maybe I did hallucinate them. Maybe I really am crazy, there was no Team Detention, and all I did was sleepwalk last night. Which would explain why my legs were covered in dirt. But Camila's clothes...I still have them. I was still wearing her shorts and t-shirt when I woke up. The others are real, I know it. So where are they? The thought plagues me most of the morning, and by lunch, I'm scanning the crowd directly, searching for them. The thing is, I'm not like that. I keep my head down and hide behind my mop of blonde hair. But something inside me is alive, writhing through me, trying to seek out the others. It's like a third sense has awakened inside me. I turn at every laugh or shout. Every time a door slams shut I feel the jarring reverberation ten times louder in my ears. It's a hypersensitivity I've never had.

Until this morning.

"Next!" A voice startles me out of my stupor, bringing me back to the crowded lunch room. I move as if in a dream, dragging my tray across the metal surface, the laughter and chatter coming from my classmates falls on my dead ears. I can vaguely hear a girl gossiping behind me. It's Ash from one of my drama classes; her dark skin and outlandish fashion sense makes her look like an African princess, chocolate brown hair cascading down her leather jacket. Her head is pressed into another girl's, as they whisper conspicuously. I like Ash, but she's always the one at the centre of the gossiping chain. Her scarlet lips curl into a devilish smile as her friend whispers something in her ear.

The lunch lady has greying hair held up in a hair net, and just looking at her, I know she has spat in my food. She smiles politely and points to a plate of lasagne. At least that's what I think it was. It looks like roadkill that had been peeled off steaming concrete. My gut has been dancing all day, but the thought of cafeteria lasagne suddenly makes me ravenous. With what I can only describe as a patronising smile, she dumps the food on my tray, along with an apple and a bottle of water. The lunch line is full of hyperactive kids shoving each other. St John's is full of potential prodigies, so there's always a student performing. Halfway across the lunch hall, a junior is singing an Ed Sheeran cover. He's sitting on one of the tables, legs crossed, guitar comfortably nestled in his arms. I don't know him that well. Only that his name is Jordan, and he wears leather in all seasons. His voice is sweet and melodic, momentarily dragging me out of explosive thoughts that have been haunting me most of the day. I continue down the line, letting his voice grace my ears. Turning around, I see that he's enraptured the whole room, and I cant help thinking of KJ's reason for being thrown in detention. In Cole's words, the boy had "turned the cafeteria into his own private concert".

Part of me wishes KJ is there instead. I never heard him sing, apart from short bursts of singalongs when we were digging. The last time I saw KJ, his face had been ghostly white, lips tainted scarlet, those warm mocha browns shut almost peacefully. My heart aches, and I force the image from my mind, gripping my tray tighter. Instead of wallowing in the pain and confusion of last night, I focus on Jordan's voice slowly reaching a crescendo.

Just as I'm falling into the chorus of the song, swaying to the melody of Supermarket Flowers, something spikes inside me. I can't explain it. It's like my body is coming to life, before my brain can register. Something hits me, the aroma of crushed coffee beans, musk and dark chocolate. It's a scent I've never smelled before, and I can't help gulping it in, nearly choking on it as it overwhelms me, getting progressively stronger.

"God, I love chocolate pudding. But I can't stomach it right now."

The sudden voice sends shivers rocketing down my spine. A pudding cup lands on my tray, and I snap my head up, finding myself face to face with a boy, who hours ago, I was convinced I'd imagined. But he's real, towering over me with that familiar curl of amusement on his lips. Cole is pale, shadows dancing under half lidded eyes that almost look iridescent, like ocean spray flecked with every shade of blue. And just like mine, they look unnatural. Wrong. Cole's eyes are both beautiful and horrifying, and I can't help gaping. The boy is dishevelled, unbrushed curls pushed back by a pair of ray-bans. His clothing choice looks clumsy, a band shirt and jeans, the old fashioned Polaroid he was wearing yesterday is nowhere to be seen. I can't speak for a moment, entranced by his eyes that look almost hypnotising, swimming in writhing light circling his iris.

Cole's tray is mostly empty except a sad looking burger, limp lettuce poking out, and a pathetic portion of fries. He offers a small smile, but I can tell it's forced. The shadows under his eyes look prominent, and the glint from yesterday, that spark of playfulness has faded into agitation and fear. "Lili." Cole murmurs, before seemingly catching my horrified look, pushing his sunglasses back into place. "Stop staring."

I manage to nod, and start towards the myriad of tables. Cole follows, leaning into me, and I smell it again. A mix of scents swirling around. It's sweet and sour enveloping together, overwhelming my senses. Squeezing my tray tighter, I focus on finding a table. Part of me wants to ask him if he's doused himself in cologne, but after his reaction to me staring at his eyes, I'm sure I'll only make him feel even more self conscious. That's what I notice automatically. The boy is bent over himself, hiding under tousled curls straying in his face. It's a completely different demeanour from yesterday, when he'd been the epitome of rebellion. I can't help relaying Madeleine's words from yesterday. "It's no surprise you have no friends, Cole." which didn't seem to faze him at the time, but now I'm wondering if I misjudged him. I figured him as a class joker, the type of guy who gets along with everyone. But now, at least after last night, he seems content to hide behind his sunglasses. "I'm not crazy, right?" Cole hisses. "Last night, we, uh..."

I can't help myself, pushing past a group of guys flocked together, cheering for Jordan, who begins singing another song. "Died?" the word slips from my mouth, and he lets out a surprised snort. "Yeah. Well, getting KO'd sounds better, of course. But sure. Died."

There's an empty table at the back of the lunch room. I gravitate towards it, and to my surprise, the raven head follows. He dumps his tray on a four seater, and collapses down with a huff. After hesitating, I take the seat opposite him, frowning at my plate of lasagne. My stomach is still conflicted whether it's hungry or nauseous.

"So." Cole leans forward with questioning eyes, brow arched. "Fancy guessing what the hell happened last night?"

"My thoughts exactly."

A familiar Kiwi twang sends my heart into a frenzy, and I look up to see KJ, with his usual smile. His eyes however, are darker than I remember. Though I don't keep eye contact with him long enough to see if they are like Cole's, or mine. KJ's hair sticks up everywhere, cheeks a pallid white, dark smudges under his tired looking eyes that look almost sunken. He wears a fresh button down and skinny jeans that contrast his ghostly cheeks almost too perfectly. Like Cole, KJ suits the look of death. I can't say the same for myself. The boy takes the seat next to Cole, dumping his tray of burger and fries.

Another smell hits me, nearly knocking the breath from my lungs. Fresh strawberries and crushed autumn leaves, a spice I've never smelled before, mixed with something sweet, like liquid sugar. I lean back in my seat, resisting the urge to cover my nose.

Picking up his fork, KJ settles his gaze on me, and then Cole, pointing at us with the silver prongs. "So I had a dream last night." he starts. "Really fuckin' weird. I head to school feeling like death and spend the whole day thinking I'm crazy, before I spot you guys." he lets out a sharp breath. "Holy fuck, I'm not crazy after all, aye."

Cole sends him a look. "Let me guess. Did your dream involve you driving us into doom, and then knocking yourself out on the steering wheel of our psycho teacher's car?"

KJ rolls his eyes. "We both had a hand it that," he mutters. "But, yeah. I woke up and thought it was a dream, and then I notice I'm-"

"Covered in dirt." I can't help cutting in, laying down my fork.

Cole nods, straightening up. "With a shitty headache, and the harrowing sensation that you were just slammed into by a train?"

The Kiwi nods, frowning at his burger. His lip curls. "Yeah." He leans forward, his smile twisting into a frown. "So, I'm right to say we, um, died, right?

Cole shrugs, poking at his burger. "Death is a strong word." he clears his throat. "Anyway, it's nice to see you..." he trails off. "Awake. And not sprawled across my lap haemorrhaging from your nose."

KJ quirks a brow. "You had me across your lap?"

Cole lets out an exasperated sigh. "Obviously. You were knocked out."

"Right. And why are you wearing sunglasses?" KJ turns to the boy, his lips curled into a smirk. "Bro, it's pouring outside." he's right. After yesterday's heatwave, the heavens have opened, treating LA to a cold shower.

The raven head scowls back. "Oh yeah, sure. I'm definitely wearing them for leisure," he says sarcastically. "Definitely not because my eyes literally look soulless."

Soulless. That's the word I've been looking for. Cole is right.

KJ snorts. "Soulless? You're being dramatic."

"Oh, really? Because I'd take a look at yours before you start judging me." Cole is snappy today, though I really can't blame him.

I can't help notice KJ's eyes. They're still the same deep, earthy brown - the color of the earth after torrential rains. But there's something else in them, something glistening, a spark of grey, of ocean spray spreading around his iris. The same colour in my eyes, and then Cole's. Though it's taking longer to fully take over KJ; bold brown still stands out over washed out blue and grey, and I revel in it. Compared to Cole and I, he looks so much more normal. But I can't say the same for his skin complexion and sunken eye-sockets. The scent seems to fit with the boy, earthy tones and autumnal smells clashing, and then I know. I know that the smell is the boy himself. And next to him, the sweet, irresistible aroma of chocolate and coffee, mixed with heavy musk, is Cole.

I couldn't smell them yesterday, and this is more of a phantom sense, not just a smell. It feels deeper, tingling in my nose, sticking to the back of my throat.

The boy's don't seem to notice the stink. KJ shoves Cole playfully. "Come on, dude. You don't need them."

Cole groans, pressing his glasses further into his face. "Lili. Tell him."

I can't get the words out, and the boy sighs. "Alright, we can talk about the freaky eyes later. What we need to establish first," he leans forward, lowering his voice into a hiss. "How the actual fuck are we still alive?"

"You're asking me?" the raven head chokes out. "We shouldn't exist right now! It's physically impossible for us to. We'll be hailed medical miracles!" Cole seems to catch himself. "Or test subjects. Which absolutely guarantees non-consensual probing."

"Guys." A third voice sounds out, and I don't even need to look up. Team Detention seem to have now have a scent attached to them, and I can identify them straight away. The sweet smell of spiced cherries and vodka brushes my nose, and I struggle to register it. Now it's combined with the boy's smells, it's more a physical entity pushing its way inside me. I manage to choke down a sharp cry. Camila joins us, sliding in next to me. She looks fresh, compared to the rest of us. The girl flaunts a bright yellow sundress and denim jacket, her hair tied into a messy bun. But I can't ignore the same pale face and shadows dotting her cheeks. The girl is wearing ray-bans like Cole.

Camila doesn't greet us with a smile. Her steps are clumsy, and I notice her hands are shaking. Instead, she dumps her bag on the table and pulls out a candy bar before unwrapping it and taking a huge bite. "I don't usually sit with you guys, but to be honest? You're the only people I want to talk to right now." she says through a mouthful, spraying bits of chocolate all over the table. I see KJ trying hard to hide his smile.

"Right. Well, it's great to know your feelings towards our little loser table," Cole says lightly, his lip lifting in a sneer. "I mean, you do hang out with popular kids, so it's no surprise."

Camila sighs. "I'm just saying. St John's social scale demands that I'm back with my clique, but today, I'm saying no to my girls. Besides, it's not like I can talk to Polly and Hannah about this."

Cole nods. "Fair enough. Well, it's nice of you to join us. We were in the middle of having a synchronised mental breakdown. Feel free to join in, of course."

The girl, to my surprise, hisses. "This isn't funny!" she squeaks. "What the hell happened to us?"

I take an opportunity to speak. Abandoning my food, I take a breath. "We were hit." I say softly. "That train hit us, right? We were completely obliterated." despite our crazy predicament, I'm getting progressively more comfortable with talking to them.

Cole nods. "Correct. But how? We were round house slammed by a train, and what? We wake up at home with no injuries whatsoever?"

"What if we, like, hallucinated it?" KJ chips in. "Mark gave us those sodas right? What if he drugged them?"

Cole shakes his head. "No. No way. We couldn't have all had the same vivid trip of getting hit by a goddamn train. Besides, didn't you guys, like feel it?"

"Dying?" Camila drops her barely touched candy bar. i notice she took the smallest bite, not enough to make a dent. "Yeah. I felt it. Like I was being thrown forwards, and I was only aware of the screeching of the train, and the explosion. The impact. Fuck, I felt the train itself hit my back. Isn't that crazy? I was supposed to die on impact."

"And we did." I murmur, pushing my lasagne away. "But then we woke up in our rooms."

"Alive." KJ says, shakily. The boy groans, resting his head in his hands. "How is this even remotely possible?" his head snaps up suddenly, brown eyes flitting across the lunch room. "Mads and Casey." He says, turning to the rest of us. "I haven't seen them all day. Casey is in my singing lessons, and Mads is in my drama. They were both absent. Mads is definitely a known presence, and I can't get through one lesson without Casey coming over and yelling at me to stop playing electric, since apparently it messes up his zen."

The boy's words send shivers down my spine. The idea of Madeleine and Casey being missing, after I promised Casey I'd help them, sends my stomach into my throat.

"Well that's just great." Cole takes a bite out of his burger, chewing mechanically. "So we get kidnapped by our teacher, get hit by a train, and top of that, we're probably going to be suspects in Mads and Casey's disappearances, if neither them nor Mark magically turn up, which is pretty much impossible. If the train hadn't have hit us, or the fucking car exploding-" the boys cuts off with a hysterical laugh. "I'm sorry, but what are we? A series of unfortunate events? How were we that unlucky?"

"I did tell you about the smoke." KJ mutters.

"Yeah, and then you knocked yourself out with your Grand Theft Auto driving." Cole says. "Anyway. As I was saying. Even if we weren't hit by the train or blown to smithereens by the car exploding, I'm pretty sure the ground would have swallowed us up."

"Cole is right. There's no way they survived." Camila speaks up softly. "That quake was brutal." I nod along with the girl, playing with the hem of my shirt. My stomach is still catapulting, but I'm still hungry. "So it's likely they were hurt. Or worse."

Or worse. Casey's expression is still in my mind; frightened eyes, lips curled in terror.

"Oh god." Cole stops eating, the burger slipping from his fingers. His cheeks pale significantly, and he jolts in his chair, his lips curving.

KJ smiles easily at the boy, elbowing him playfully. "It's fine, aye. We'll work it out." He nods at Camila and then me, his lips quirking into a smile. "Together, right?"

Cole lurches to his feet. "No. I'm going to barf."

Before any of us can react, he's spinning on his heel and darting out of the lunch room, crashing through the doors. I'm on my feet before I consciously know what I'm doing, KJ jumping up after me, followed by Camila, grabbing her bag. No words are exchanged between us. With a simple look, we turn and run after Cole, abandoning our lunch. the three of us find Cole halfway down the corridor. His palms are pressed against the walls, bent over, heaving up what I'm guessing is his lunch. KJ approaches him, throwing an arm around the trembling boy. Cole's managed to keep his ray-bans on, though only just. He's pressing them to his face, his other hand swiping slurry from his lips. "Mate, are you okay?"

Cole nods. "Ugh, I think so?" He straightens up with a groan. "What was that? Was the burger rancid?" swiping his brow, the boy scowls. "I was starving too." The boy's words stick with me for some reason, whirring around my skull. I can't help but think of the breakfast mom made me. The eggs that I was ravenous for, but when I got closer, the smell made my stomach flip over. KJ folds his arms. "Were you feeling sick before?"

"No. It wasn't until I ate the burger. The taste was suddenly gross," he pulls a face. "Like I was eating dog shit."

KJ smirks. "You know what dog shit tastes like?"

I'm sure Cole is glaring daggers at the boy under the ray-bans. "I preferred it when you were knocked out, Apa."

"Mate, you were partially the reason why we ended up on a train track in the first place."

The boy scoffs. "Partially because you're the worst driver I've ever met."

"Boys." Camila says, cutting off their back and forth. "Focus." She steps towards Cole, stepping around the barf. "Are you alright now?"

"Mmm." Cole murmurs. "It just came out of nowhere."

"Classy as always, Cole."

The new voice startles me, and the four of us turn, only to be faced with Mr Garret. His eyebrows are raised, lips curved in disgust. "We have rest rooms for a reason, Mr Sprouse." he says sharply, before his beady eyes sweep over the rest of us, and lands on me. I inwardly cringe, and he breaks out into a grin. "Miss Reinhart! It looks like you've finally found yourself some friends!" He scowls at the other three. "Even if it's St John's lost causes. How sad." his words strike me. Cole pretty much admitted to being a loner. But KJ and Camila seem like they're on the top of the high school hierarchy. Though when I glance at the two of them, they avoid my eyes. The teacher seems smug.

"Does that mean you'll no longer be restyling your hair on school property, hm?"

My cheeks burn. I don't answer him, suddenly reminded of my red streaked hair, my senses expanding, the three's hitting me all at once, a sensory overload.

"Did you want something?" Cole clears his throat. The boy cocks his head, folding his arms. "Because, as you can see, I'm kind of busy throwing up right now."

Mr Garret hums. "And why do you have an audience?"

Camila turns on the teacher with a scowl. "We're seeing if he's okay!"

The teacher sneers. "Bathroom, Cole. I'm sure a smart boy like you should understand something so juvenile," he clears his throat. "Also, we're a prestigious drama academy. I'm afraid you can't wear sunglasses inside." His gaze flicks to Camila. "That goes for you too, Miss Mendes."

The air seems to still, and both Cole and Camila ignore the teacher, KJ shooting me a panicked glance. Mr Garret doesn't notice the tension. "Also, when you've stopped watching Cole continue to dirty up my hallway, Mr Consuelos would like a chat."

Something inside me snaps. "What?" I can't help choking out.

Mr Garret studies me. "Oh, you have a mouth! It's nice to hear you use it. And yes, Miss Reinhart, Mr Consuelos would like to talk to the four of you. I presume it's concerning the detention session from last night. I suggest you kids get a move on."

"But..." KJ is speechless. "The earthquake. How did he get away?"

Casey and Madelaine is all I can think of. My heart is on fire. He got away, and they didn't? The others seem to share my thought. KJ shoots me a look of panic.

Mr Garret frowns. "Mr Apa, I love your imagination, I truly do. But delusions? I'm not a big fan of them."

"But-"

"I'm not sure what earthquake you four experienced, but I am positive no such thing has hit Los Angeles for a while. Our last recorded quake was at least 2015."

I stare at the teacher, waiting for him to laugh, admitting to some kind of sick joke. But the man's expression doesn't waver. Cole is silent, and Camila has gone a sickly shade of white. "Now if we're done playing games, Mr Consuelos is expecting you."

"Mr Garret," KJ starts through gritted teeth. "You need to listen to us, okay? Look, there was an earthquake last night! We were caught up in it after your crazy staff member kidnapped us for some weird artefact he insisted we find, and-" the boy is cut off when Cole slams his hand over KJ's mouth. "He's kidding," Cole forces a grin. "We, uh, told stories last night to pass the time, and of course our imagination's got the better of us." eventually he lets go of KJ, who straightens up with a scowl. But he's quiet.

"Fascinating." Mr Garret murmurs. "Sunglasses off." He orders, before turning and heading off down the hallway, leaving us in a sort of stunned silence.

Camila is the first to speak. "The earthquake." she says softly. "How could he not have felt it? It split the earth! It nearly killed us!"

"Yeah, nearly." Cole says. "Instead, we were hit by a goddamn train."

KJ nods. "So, what? We're the only ones who felt it? That's fuckin' crazy."

"So..." Cole murmurs, his gaze flitting to me. "Lets suspend all disbelief, and say that we were the only ones who felt the earthquake. Do you think-"

He's interrupted by a boyish yell. I turn to see Charles Melton, a well known Junior. "Oi, Kiwi!" He shouts to KJ, tossing him a sandwich. "In case you missed lunch."

KJ catches, but he's not smiling. "Cheers, asshole." He says, not loud enough for them to hear. Even if he did, Charles ignores him, bursting into laughter, with the other group of boys he was with. KJ's expression seems to twist, anger flitting in his eyes, as he unwraps the sandwich. "Starving." he mumbles, before taking a huge bite, ripping into it. When I catch his eye, his lip curls and he takes another humongous bite.

Cole is frowning at the boy. "I've never seen anyone eat a sandwich so aggressively."

"Shut up." KJ says, through a mouthful of what looks like chicken and lettuce.

"Apa!" Another boy walks past with a grin, chucking him a sandwich. "If ya missed lunch."

KJ doesn't respond this time, continuing to chew through the sandwich. Cole turns to the boy. "Are you going to explain-"

"No." KJ cuts him off. "You were saying?"

"Okay, so let's go through the facts," Cole starts, ignoring KJ, who demolishes the sandwich in seconds flat. "We get hit by a train, an earthquake that nobody else seems to feel happens, and-"

"Oh fuck." KJ drops the sandwich and twists around, choking whatever he'd eaten, back up. An exasperated yell sounds out. Mr Garret. "Again?! Cole! Go to the restroom!"

When KJ's straightened up, Cole rests his hands on the boy's shoulders. "Let me guess," he says softly. "The sandwich tasted fine, and then it was like eating literal poop."

KJ spits excess and nods, scowling. "That was the grossest fucking sarnie I've ever eaten in my life."

"I don't think it was the sandwich." Camila says softly. "That candy bar I had. I had to put it down, because I suddenly felt really sick, as soon as I started eating it."

And me. I want to say it, but the words are stuck in my throat. The fact that my gut has been dancing all day finally makes some kind of sense. The three of them turn to me, and I hold my breath. Cole cocks his head. "Three out of four, Lils," he murmurs. "Can you by any chance keep food down?"

I'm about to answer, when I sense heavy footsteps. Turning around, I expect Mr Garret. But instead, standing with the exact same suit, that unnerving grin plastered on his lips, is Mr Consuelos. "There you are!" he grins. "Come to my office, I have a surprise for you!"

The tone the teacher is using is the type nobody can argue with. So, moving slowly, we follow the teacher down the hallway. "I wanted to congratulate you for a job well done in finding my artefact!" he says, as he pulls the door to his office open. We're ushered inside, and I find myself a quivering mess, shoulder to shoulder with Cole.

In front of us is a banquet of food. Cakes, pies, bowls of pasta and fruit pastries. The teacher grins widely. "Let me treat you guys. After all, you found my artefact, didn't you?"

"No." Cole is first to speak. He's frowning at a chocolate frosted cake. I'm not sure if he wants to eat it, or barf again. "Where are Madeleine and Casey?"

The teacher's grin widens. "Eat. Really, it's all yours. I put you kids through quite a lot yesterday, so I decided to be a good teacher for once."

"We're not hungry, thanks teach." KJ says. "And we didn't find your Scooby Doo thing."

"Sure you did!" Mr Consuelos booms, and I flinch, leaning into Cole. "And kudos for that, truly. I really did underestimate you four. I didn't think you would actually find it."

This time, I force myself to speak. "Madeleine and Casey." I whisper. "You took them last night, so where are they?"

"Right here!" A familiar voice trills. Startled, I turn to see Mads stroll through the door, Casey in tow. The girl locks the door behind her, and my blood runs cold.

"Now." Mark says, leaning forward. Madeleine and Casey stay at the door, blocking it. "I'd really like to have my artefact back now please." he pauses. "The artefact that you four quite literally possess." the playful glint in his eyes disappears, and the man adapts the look of a predator. "Now." He says. "You four are going to walk out of this school with me, and there's going to be no protests or yelling. Understand?"

All the breath is sucked out of my lungs. I want to run. But where to? The door is blocked. Madeleine and Casey will easily be able to grab me.

"And if we don't?" KJ's tone is harsh ice cutting down my spine.

Mark shrugs. "If you don't, I'll make sure it's painful when I extract what is mine from you. So if I was you, I'd do as you're told, and come with me. Before this gets ugly." he gestures to the the chairs in front of his desk. "Sit down please."

I find myself slumping down in one of the chairs, followed by Camila, then dragging himself was KJ, towed by Cole.

Mark's smile broadens. "If you're wondering why you feel quite strange, like for example, getting second senses, and being unable to do basic human things, it is because, as we speak, the deomonvitus is beginning to take over your nervous system."

"And then?" Camila hisses. "What are you trying to say?"

"He's saying," Madeleine leaves the door, rounding Mark's desk. "That you guys are full of explosive energy right now, and he wants it." the girl rolls her eyes. "God, is it that hard to understand?"

Mark chuckles. "Madeleine, remember, they're barely human anymore. After all, they tragically lost their lives after getting into an accident, and of course my artefact brought them back, along with some, uh...lets say, added bonuses."

"You mean the soulless eyes?" Finally, he takes his glasses off, revealing almost blue eyes, even more washed out, growing greyer and greyer. "This is what you call a bonus?"

Mark grins. "You truly have no idea what you are capable of, son."

"Can we skip the evil speech?" Casey groans, pushing himself off of the door. "The point is, Mark is taking you guys. So you don't like, die. Again."

"Oh no, they'll die." Mark says. "Extracting the artefact will release the energy that's keeping them kicking."

Casey hums. "Oh. Well, that sucks, I guess? Maybe you should have come after Mads and I, and we wouldn't have been caught up in it too, right?" he winks.

Cole twists around. "Wait, what? You weren't..."

The boy laughs. "Oh no, I was there. Mads and I? We're in your position," a sad smile curls on his lip. "But of course, we didn't get so lucky."

The realisation hits me, dragging a choked cry from my throat. Especially when Casey offers me a small smile. He comes to stand in front of me, and I can't help noticing he's faint. Like a faded picture. "Mark says the only thing keeping us here is you guys." He takes a step back. "When you were hit, the explosion hit us too. But instead of bringing us back-"

"We only got a small dose," Mads finishes. She holds out a hand, and I can only stare as it flits in and out of existence. "So we're on borrowed time."

Mark nods. "Now." He says. "Are you going to come willingly, or cause a scene?" 

* * *

**please review for more! if nobody's reading, theres no point in posting lmao**


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